Ties That Bind
by River Winters
Summary: They first met when he was a brash young padawan learner and she was only a handmaiden. Through the years, everything around them changed, but to Sabé and Obi-Wan, each became to the other the one thing they could count on the most. Sobiwan. Spans TPM Original Trilogy and includes original storylines.
1. Chapter One

**Ties That Bind**

"_Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow..." -_ Margaret Atwood

Dear reader, I've been working on this story for way too long (umm since like 2010?) and decided to start posting it already to make myself stop procrastinating… long live Sobiwan :D

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**Chapter One**

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..._

**Naboo**

**37BBY**

Several kilometers northwest of Naboo's capital city of Theed and in the Great Grass Plains, the ruins stood somberly, their massive size and height making them easy to see from a distance. Thousands of years ago, the temple had been a pristine herald, a center of worship and devotion—but now grass grew wild in between the cracks, birds and small rodents made their homes wherever they pleased in the disheveled mess. Little else but worn down cobblestone floors and disintegrating walls remained now, leaving the many weatherworn statues of the moon goddess Shiraya to silently watch over her forgotten sanctuary.

_Thwack thwack thwack! _The sharp wooden sound of staffs hitting each other punctuated the otherwise peaceful evening ambiance. In the central atrium of the ruins, twenty new Royal Naboo Security Forces recruits were gathered in a wide semi-circle around two of the junior officers who were sparring in the traditional lim-staff style. Gregar Typho and Gavyn Sykes, both on their second years in the forces and more than proficient in lim-staff sparring were currently making a show of the match, enjoying the attention thoroughly. _Thwack! Thwack! _Gregar laughed aloud, dodging as Gavyn made a wide sweep aimed for him. A driven and striking young man with an easy smile and dark olive skin, Gregar stood in stark contrast to Gavyn, who was taller and lanky, more gifted in the cockpit of a starfighter than in face-to-face combat.

Watching several paces off with his hands clasped behind his back stood Lieutenant Panaka. Even though he was a staunch military man through and through, he wasn't past enjoying what he found to be the more recreational art of lim-staff sparring. _Thwack!_ Gregar was now twirling his staff jauntily, a wide grin on his young face as Gavyn recoiled from a solid strike to his arm. Panaka couldn't help but smile, proud—at seventeen years of age, his nephew Gregar was fierce, confident, and ambitious—and now the winner of the current match, tripping Gavyn expertly and then holding him down with both his foot and the end of his staff. Gavyn held his hands up in defeat, shaking his head and assuring his opponent things would be different if they had been in starfighters. Gregar laughed and helped his opponent up, heartily clapping his friend on the back as he enthusiastically agreed to take that bet. The watching recruits cheered, and Gregar, basking in the glow of his win, threw his arms wide, grinning. "Who's next?" One of the more brawny male recruits by the name of Will Chamberlyn accepted the challenge, and another intense round of lim-staffing commenced, a rhythmic staccato of wood striking wood.

Beside Panaka stood Captain Magneta, head of the forces. A short, built woman who was distinctly hawkish, her jet-black hair and almond-shaped eyes could have made her beautiful—but she was a very severe woman, both in personality and physical appearance. Most of her femininity had been traded long ago for the lifestyle of military. She leaned a little closer to Panaka, speaking quietly. "That nephew of yours is too showy for his own good." She sent him a sidelong glance. "_But_, there's no denying he's a good fighter." Welling up with pride, Panaka sent her a thin, quick smile. He was more than proud of the young man Gregar was becoming—a warrior, a thinker. Admittedly, sometimes the boy could be too overconfident and prideful, but time would soften those flaws as it always did. Panaka glanced at Magneta, hoping she of all people would see what he did in Gregar. Her entire life was the forces, much like Panaka, and he had come to respect her over all for her dedication and shrewdness. She lived and breathed for her recruits, thought of nothing else but the Security Forces, spent her free time planning and creating new programs and initiatives.

She liked to bring the newest recruits out to these ruins for training—today had been the usual run of training-droid drills, target practice, and an introduction to evasive tactics in the field. The distance from the rest of civilization seemed to instill new focus and initiative into the recruits, so Magneta insisted on the old temple site in trainings.

It was ironic that Naboo was one of the most highly pacifist planets in the Republic and yet here they were, a group of people who defied the weaker ways of pacifism. Panaka's personal belief was that Naboo was behind the times in its presumption that its peaceful nature would keep it from harm and conflict and he made it his life's work to further what little military and security Naboo had. The hope was that someday, his planet would be able to stand and fight in the face of any given disaster, equip itself with an army. And right now, among this group of enthusiastic protectors and military-minded individuals, he felt optimistic he would see this happen in his lifetime.

_Thwack!_ Gregar brought the current sparring to an abrupt end with a quick strike and the heel of his boot as he held his opponent down for three counts as the onlookers wildly cheered, caught up in the intensity of the sport. Shaking his head balefully, Will climbed back to his feet at the end of three counts. Gregar strutted a little, calling for his next opponent. Panaka chuckled, scanning the faces for a volunteer, and then, out of nowhere, the shortest, smallest, youngest recruit stepped out from the rest. Sabé Nebira—she was one of the newest recruits and was already grabbing a spare lim-staff and tested its weight, one-handed, almost casual. With dark brown hair and pretty features, she wasn't a typical recruit. She was very petite, standing at least a head and a half shorter than everyone else there, but her confidence seemed to supersede her size. Her expression was calm and calculating, her chin held high, as if she was daring someone to defy her. Gregar hesitated as she gave the staff a twirl across from him, and his expression of confusion prompted the slightest of smiles from her. "What... are you afraid to fight a girl?" she prompted. The question was joking and light, but there was a deliberateness to the words, and a funny little smile quirked the side of her mouth.

Gregar's eyebrows rose and he smiled loftily, folding his arms and giving the impression of complete confidence. "I'm just nervous I might squish you, Shortstack."

At the word _Shortstack_, her expression flickered just slightly, but projecting vague disinterest, she gave her staff a deft twirl, settling into a deep ready stance. "You're implying you can actually keep up with me."

Gregar grinned, taking his ready stance, and they waited for the other to make the first move. A complete silence fell over the onlookers and a moment passed in which the two opponents leveled gazes at each other, perhaps telepathically daring the other to move first. And just when it seemed they would never begin, Gregar leapt forward, bringing his staff down with one hand in a crashing sweep—but Sabé had anticipated his attack and with surprising speed, sidestepped the blow, making one of her own aimed for his ribs which he barely managed to parry. _Thwack thwack thwack!_ And it was off, the ancient and intricate dance of footwork, speed, and precision. Sabé managed to keep her defensive up as Gregar released a blazing offensive complete with a grin here and there.

"She's too small," Magneta muttered, shaking her head. Panaka glanced at her, and then back at Sabé's slight figure. Magneta didn't always agree with the recruits he brought into the forces—she preferred more brawn than brain, while Panaka valued the subtlety of intelligence and offense. But even he had almost sent Sabé out of his office when one week ago he had looked up to see her standing there with her interview file—she just looked so small at first glance, so young. But then he had grudgingly looked at her file, spoken with her. And in the span of thirty minutes he had fallen for the subtle charm of her standoffish personality and her knack for irony, her penchant for picking up on small details. In time, he believed the skills she exhibited would make her into an excellent profiler. Still, he knew if she were to succeed in the security forces, she would need to make up for her small stature in speed and intelligence. But so far... she seemed to be doing just that.

For nearly two full minutes, Sabé successfully held off Gregar's advances... but as the time ticked on, they began to lose their edge to exhaustion. In a more desperate move, Gregar whacked Sabé hard on the knuckles. Sabé yelped in surprise as she shook her hand out, knuckles already bright red from the hit. He shrugged, panting, feigning innocence. "_Whoops_."

She snorted. "That's cheating." The comment wasn't an accusation—she grinned as if she'd been given permission to do the same. She took her injured hand and gripped the staff with both hands right in the middle, swung it in a smooth arc and suddenly Gregar found himself on defensive against a swift and reenergized attack, backing up as Sabé struck at him from all sides. Switching the staff to one hand, she leapt high and brought it down to be met by his staff just barely.

Using the momentum, Gregar pushed hard, causing Sabé to fly backwards, stumbling and rolling onto the ground. He laughed in good nature as she scrambled to her feet. "Nice try, Lightspeed." He turned his attention to the other recruits, throwing his hands high and receiving applause.

Sabé gave a harsh, short laugh, out of breath. "So you're proud of yourself for being able to knock around someone half your size?" That drew laughter from the onlookers. Gregar's smile deflated a bit as Sabé stood there smirking, suddenly the crowd favorite, the underdog. Beside Panaka, Magneta was smiling.

Twirling his staff lightly and attempting to remain aloof and cool despite his obvious frustration, Gregar leveled Sabé with a steady gaze. "I think it's time to end this little game."

Sabé held her staff in one hand and fell into a strike stance. "Yes, _please_. Go ahead and _try_." She held up her hand, palm flat, bent her fingers in twice—an open invitation to fight. Sabé might have had natural ability and speed, but Gregar was now in serious mode and Panaka winced as he watched his nephew unleash an unrelenting attack upon the small recruit. Within thirty seconds Gregar knocked her down, but the second she was on her back, she had rolled to the side and jumped back to her feet, hindering Gregar from holding her down for a count.

Gregar narrowed his eyes at the girl, who was sinking back into a ready stance. "Do yourself a favor—stay down next time."

Slightly shaken, Sabé shrugged, breathing heavy. "Not my style."

Again, Gregar charged and again Sabé held up a defensive for a few seconds before Gregar slammed her down to the ground. But before he could pin her, she rolled backward over her shoulders and was suddenly back on her feet, panting. Her hair, which had at one point been tightly pulled back from her face in a high ponytail was now lopsided, falling, and frizzed. Her face was now angry, her calm mask quickly fading. Gregar's voice was rising. "You just don't get a _hint_, do you?"

She hadn't even stood up all the way before she threw her staff at him—an entirely illegal move. Using the brief moment of surprise, Sabé grabbed hold of his staff with both hands and in a show of surprising strength and dexterity she yanked him toward her, sweeping her leg into his shin and successfully tripping him—but taking her with him. They tumbled to the ground, both fighting for the high ground but instead rolling around haphazardly toward the onlookers. Everyone scattered to avoid being hit by the two, and Magneta rose up beside Panaka, no longer amused, but instead frowning at the unprofessional turn the match had taken. "_Enough_, recruits." The two of them didn't seem to hear their commanding officer, continuing to obliviously half-wrestle half-ground-fight, completely unaware of anything but the other. "I said, _enough_!" Magneta repeated to no avail. "_Typho! Nebira!_" The thunderous shout stopped them cold and a heavy silence spanned the entire group, the only sound was of Sabé and Gregar's labored breathing as they seemed to remember themselves under Magneta's highly dangerous glare. "_On. Your. Feet._"

They complied immediately, standing to attention as Magneta approached them and glared down her nose at them. Panaka watched the slight terror materialize on his nephew's face as Sabé's face became a blank mask. Magneta wasn't the tallest or loudest, but she was damned imposing, especially when she let the silence hang like she did. "You will both do well to obey my orders in the future," she said in an all too calm voice. "Typho, I'm disappointed." Her gaze flickered over to Sabé before she turned to the breathless and silent onlookers. "Recruits, we're heading back to the city." She turned her piercing gaze back to Sabé and Gregar. "These two will be walking back to Theed tonight."

She signaled smartly with three fingers for everyone to head back to the speeders, leaving Gregar Typho and Sabé Nebira blank faced and out of breath, exchanging an angry glare. Panaka shook his head, sighing and leaving before Gregar could say anything to him. As he filed out of the atrium and into one of the main ways out onto the plains, he thought he heard Gregar accusingly grumbling something about "your fault" to which Sabé promptly said something very unladylike in return. Chuckling, Panaka fell into step beside Magneta. Glancing sidelong at her, he was surprised to see a rare, secretive smile on her face. Speaking low, she leaned a bit closer. "I like their spirits," she said. "They both need some discipline, but I can wear the stubbornness out of them."

Panaka snorted, watching the recruits piling into the three speeders that would take them back to Theed. "I can't speak for Nebira, but... this is _Gregar_ we're talking about."

"Trust me, Lieutenant. Gregar has had it easy up to now." The words, seemingly ominous, were accompanied by an almost _playful_ smile. Before Panaka could even react, Magneta swung easily into her seat in her flash speeder, once again the picture of professional indifference as she keyed in the ignition code. Panaka slowly slid into his seat beside her, and as the engines roared to life, he glanced back—and there were the two misfits emerging down the crumbling steps of the temple. Sabé was shoving Typho sideways as he threw his hands up in defeat or defense—it was difficult to tell. A smile came to Panaka's face as he turned back to face front, the lush landscape suddenly whizzing by as the speeder lurched into motion. He too had been young and impulsive once, not to mention overly prideful and self confident. Those two young ones would learn in time. Panaka smiled to himself. He knew Gregar held a destiny in the forces, it was in his very blood. As for Sabé... only time would tell.

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**Four Years Later**

Beyond the squared shoulders of the two pilots and the multicolored blinking lights on the starship's console, suspended in inky space dotted by millions of stars: a jewel-like green and blue planet called Naboo. Obi-Wan Kenobi, seated in the shadows beside his Jedi master, contemplated the sight with something close to indifference, noticing instead the pattern of hundreds of gray starships dotting the area around the planet. There was no mistaking those ships. A formidable power in the Republic, the Trade Federation had seized control of Naboo's space, effectively blockading the peaceful, unarmed planet for over two weeks now. Dispatched in secret as the issue was endlessly delayed in the Senate, Obi-Wan and his Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn anticipated the negotiations would be short and simple—the two of them would easily bring a peaceful solution to the rocky situation and then be on their way. And so, already reasonably sure of what to expect and not curious, having seen too many beautiful planets to be particularly affected or interested by the current sight, Obi-Wan had no reason to look twice at Naboo. But, years later, even in the last moments of his life, this very day would be recognized by him as one of the most important days he would ever live—the day itself would not change his life... but the events it set into motion would.

Down on the planet's surface inside the royal palace, in the middle of absolute chaos, a solitary person held still. The captain of the guard barked out orders to the few men under his command and the other four handmaidens clustered around the Queen, but Sabé Nebira stood away from everyone else, staring into the large floor-to-ceiling window in front of her. She could just see her reflection, ghostly and distorted in the panes of glass. She reached out, just barely, toward her image. She didn't recognize herself. Dark, frightened eyes stared back from a mask of white accented with crisp red—the traditional royal makeup of the Queen of Naboo. The jet black dress she wore swallowed everything but her face and tips of her fingers. An immense black feathered headdress with artfully crafted filigree details made the petite handmaiden seem taller and more imposing—but she felt exposed and small, helpless against the oncoming storm. She glanced back over her shoulder at Queen Padmé Amidala, who, disguised as a simple handmaiden, whispered words of comfort to her other four handmaidens. Yané was sobbing openly as the other girls struggled to hold themselves together. Sabé was struck by how young all of them looked. How young they all _were_.

The rhythmic thud of the battle droids march grew louder, punctuated sporadically by blasterfire. Turning her gaze again to the window, Sabé could see them now, hundreds of spindly droids filing uniformly up the wide plaza on a steady march toward the palace. With each step the droids took, she felt sure her heart beat even faster. _"Let them capture you peacefully. Don't resist,"_ Padmé had commanded both her and Panaka's forces just moments ago. So, they waited, each second feeling like a thousand.

Sabé glanced at where Panaka and the palace guards stood and felt a panicked sort of regret swell up inside her. She had willingly left behind four years of service in the security forces to move onto the duties that came with being a handmaiden and decoy. Not because of a loyalty to the Royal House of Naboo, but because of Panaka who had convinced her how fulfilling the position would be, how bright a future it would bring her. Now, a handful of months into Padmé Amidala's reign, Sabé silently waited, disguised as Queen Amidala with orders to _stand down _to an enemy she desperately wanted to fight. Waiting meekly to be captured was not what she had imagined. Doing nothing was what Sabé hated.

She closed her eyes against the haze of building angers and fears, breathing deeply and searching for reserves of strength and bravery, hoping they existed beneath the most secret and desperate desire to _run away_. She felt the solid weight of her blaster strapped to her thigh underneath the heavy layers of her dress and wondered what good the weapon would do if the time came. A vague, sick feeling held her in a chokehold. Her chest and throat hurt with effort to keep from crying. _You coward_, her mind whispered. Shocked at the unbidden thought, Sabé felt indignant anger surge forth—but below the anger, the deeply rooted fear remained, unwilling to let her go. Sabé opened her eyes as the anger cooled off into familiar nervous anxiety. The droids, hundreds upon hundreds, still pressed forward, every moment closer to the palace. They would overtake the palace soon and capture her shortly after. And after that... the future was uncertain. Strange. Life had always been this way for her, hadn't it? Storm after storm and tragedy after tragedy, yet she still remained. That thought alone somehow comforted her. And thinking of the two people she would have given anything to save, she did what she knew her parents would be proud of.

Sabé drew herself up to her full height, willing herself to be brave. She was committed to the end, and she knew that. She clasped her hands in front of herself and then turned around to face fate without any grand fanfare.

**Seven Standard Hours Later**

**The Outskirts of Mos Espa, Tatooine**

_Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, pause. Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, pause. _Sabé tried not to count. _Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, pause._ It didn't seem to be working. From her seat in the Queen's throne, she watched Captain Panaka pace back and forth with military precision, three long strides each way and a brief pause when he turned on his heel. As the captain continued what Sabé could only guess was an attempt to wear a decent-sized hole into the ship with his feet, she kept counting, hardly even realizing it. Standing on either side of her, Rabé and Eirtaé remained stock still. The girls were newer to what Sabé had jokingly, on occasion, called "the Panaka Regime," but they knew enough to keep quiet until he spoke at the cost of getting their heads ripped off—such was the mood he was in.

_Thump, thump, thump._ The footfalls and the soft whir of the recycling air system continued to be the only sounds filling the small royal chamber. The starship they were currently confined to—the _Pristine_—had been designed six years ago specifically for the monarch's _leisure_. Not for daring escapes or unforeseeably long journeys, but for day trips and vacation transportation. For a crew of eight, not for the close to thirty aboard right now. There wasn't even a kitchen, only a small storage of foodstuffs._ Not good, _Sabé reflected. She guessed that from the hours they had been in hyperspace, they had to be at least thirty-thousand lightyears from home. Her heart sank a little more at the thought. Just an hour ago they had landed the damaged starship on some middle-of-nowhere planet in hopes of finding parts—parts that were needed after a daring escape from their home planet. Sabé's mind spun with all the other possible scenarios that could have played out—most of them seemed better than this one. After all, being effectively stuck with a ship that couldn't fly, on a planet that wasn't part of the Republic, and in the charge of two Jedi who had come out of nowhere and were strangers to everyone... Sabé was left struggling to stay focused and calm. She found herself distractedly looking at the elegant ribbons of lighting overhead. The Naboo people were so focused on details, symmetry, and the beauty of balance in every aspect of their culture. The starship reflected this through and through, but Sabé found herself wondering at the tragedy of how such an advanced and profound culture could be so naive and unprepared.

Punctuated by the _thump, thump, thump_ of Panaka's continued pacing, Sabé couldn't keep her thoughts from returning to their escape from Naboo, the horrors they had witnessed. They had rounded a corner in the heart of Theed's living quarters and seen a man resisting arrest. Point-blank, the droids blasted him, then his wife and little girl, too. And dumbly, Sabé and the others had done nothing, just kept walking, herded by their captors. Sabé couldn't get the image of the little girl from her mind. Bright eyes, blonde ringlets. She couldn't have been more than three years old. Deeply troubled, Sabé locked the memory away, tried to swallow the guilt. Tried not to wonder about how many others might die now, abandoned by their Queen.

Sabé then realized the Captain had stopped pacing. He was simply standing in front of her, staring into nothing. An imposing man with an austere countenance and a certain sort of sharpness about him, Panaka's stern expression could intimidate many people, and right now, even Sabé felt slightly nervous... just wanted him to _get on_ with whatever ranting he was assuredly holding back. Aimed at no one in particular, he finally spoke, trying without much avail to hold back the frustration. "This plan of the Jedi's has left us in an _extremely_ precarious position. We're completely unguarded—low on rations—past ship capacity with a bunch of restless pilots and not enough guards." He sighed heavily. "What if we've been followed, what if we're attacked by some local trouble?" He paused, looking at Rabé sharply. "Stand up straight," he barked, to which Rabé immediately complied. "Furthermore," the captain resumed pacing, suddenly bringing to mind a caged animal. "Her Royal Highness completely ignored my strongest advice against going into the city. What was she _thinking_?"

The girls exchanged furtive glances. They were well aware of everything he had just said. Sabé knew they had all been against Padmé's decision to accompany Master Qui-Gon into the city as well, but stubborn-as-durasteel Padmé would hear nothing of any protests. Padmé had insisted she would be able to better control the outcome of their predicament this way, and only Sabé had protested aloud, citing the Jedi's apparent recklessness and self-assuredness would not be swayed by who he presumed to be a simple handmaiden. But Padmé had already decided, and so she went.

"Captain Panaka, she is with a Jedi Master, I'm sure she will be fine..." Eirtaé ventured cautiously, probably hoping to calm down the captain, but instead receiving an angry retort.

"I am _not _sure she will be fine," Panaka snapped back, then relented slightly, sighing deeply. "This is dangerous and ludicrous. If we were followed we'll be sitting ducks—I should have been able to send a guard at _least, _or gone instead while the Jedi stayed here, that way..." he continued on with various other disjointed 'could haves' as the three handmaidens helplessly listened, prisoners of his tirade. Sabé could almost see the thoughts as they careened through Panaka's head right now—fears about losing his position as captain, or worse, being responsible for harm or even death of his Queen so newly elected—repercussions for all of the numberless disasters he was, no doubt, imagining. No wonder he couldn't stop babbling, he had never imagined this scenario. And now his anxieties were piling in on top of each other, affecting his usual calm and decisive nature. Having known Panaka for much longer than the other two girls, Sabé knew that his foul mood could quickly spread among the ranks if not checked. Although it was a calculated risk, Sabé decided to interrupt, taking a chance that her next words might divert the captain's attention and pacify his frustration. Or at the very least shut him up for a minute or two."...and taking the Gungan was probably not the best choice. I would have more than likely—"

_Step one, agree with him._ "I couldn't agree with you more, Captain Panaka. There are many things Master Jinn should have, but didn't, take into account." _Step two, pose a question he can and will tackle._ "But what do you think we should do while we wait here? What's your directive? What should _we_ do?"

Panaka looked at her, a long moment, unmoving. She waited, feeling Rabé and Eirtaé holding their breath beside her, found herself doing the same. Panaka drew in a deep breath, folded his arms in thought, and with relief, Sabé could literally see his thoughts begin to shift from what he couldn't control to what he could control. And that was Captain Panaka, a man who was happy only when he had things in hand. He began pacing again, tapping his fingers in thought, thinking out loud.

"Yes, we must form a plan of action for making ourselves defendable against any attacks. We'll need to be ready to go when Jinn procures the hyperdrive. Sabé, you'll stay in the Queen's quarters when not absolutely necessary. I do not wish for our trick to be discovered so soon after the Queen's coronation. Eirtaé, Rabé, stay with Sabé and run interference." The girls all nodded agreement automatically and Panaka continued pacing, but now there was an air of certainty and purpose in his steps. "I will see to setting up a perimeter, a guard shift, and then we will deal with the rationing of goods and foodstuffs." He paused, in thought. "I'll go see to those things now. You three stay here."

And without any further pretense, he strode out of the room. As soon as the door hissed closed, a collective sigh escaped the girls. Eirtaé took two steps to the side and slumped into the bench there, muttering helpless prayers under her breath as Rabé put her face in her hands. Sabé's shoulders sagged from where they had been ramrod straight at her ears as she looked between her two friends. No one said a thing. Sabé suspected that her two friends were feeling like she was—shellshocked. Only that morning they had been going about their duties as normal. And then they had given death the slip twice as they fought their way out of the city capital, braved a blockade, and then landed a damaged ship on an Outer Rim planet—this left them lightyears from their sister handmaidens Yané and Saché, cut off from any news from home, stranded and dependent on two rescuers who they didn't know at all. Sabé paused. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. They had introduced themselves very cordially and promised a quick resolution to the current situation. Still, Sabé didn't understand why the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic sent two Jedi secretly to try to negotiate with the Trade Federation. The blockade and invasion should have been declared illegal, not endlessly debated and held up in the Senate. However, Sabé felt she should let go of her misgivings and just be grateful that the Ambassadors got there when they did. She was no politician and knew little about galactic procedure—only knew that she was tired of the same slow and impersonal treatment that Naboo had received from the Senate over the years.

Sabé glanced over at her friends—Rabé had joined Eirtaé on the bench and they were glazed over with strange, far-off looks in their eyes. She knew exactly why. They both had families on Naboo. Rabé was one of nine children, Eirtaé also had a brother and parents. It was strange, thinking about what would have happened if they had decided to stay on Naboo. The older Jedi, Qui-Gon, had said he sensed Sabé would be killed if she stayed. The words still chilled her. Without warning, she thought of three people she hadn't thought of in months. Aunt Carra, Uncle Deg, cousin Cloé. The only family she had left, and she hadn't spoken to them in at least a year. The regret was overwhelming, the worry was worse. If they were dead or hurt—the only family she had left in the entire galaxy—Sabé felt her stomach twist, aware of how utterly powerless she was at the moment. She swore to herself that if she made it back to Naboo—no, _when_ she made it back to Naboo—she would mend that broken bridge. And that would have to do for now. Again, she took her personal feelings and thoughts and pushed them back where they couldn't rile her.

Needing to move, Sabé stood and began to pace the length of the room slowly, feeling the weight of the formal black gown bear down on her. Rabé and Eirtaé watched her from their seats, and tears glittered in Rabé's eyes. She looked from Sabé to Eirtaé, obliviously only thinking of home. "Do you think the reports of camps were true? That people were taken there to be... killed?" Her voice was a whisper, catching on the tears she was struggling to hold down.

Sabé stopped as s small, somber silence filled the chamber. The seriousness of the situation resonating with them all. They were so unprepared for this. _So_ unprepared. Sabé went to sit beside Rabé, and put a comforting arm around her friend, knowing now was not the time for entertaining such dark possibilities. "No. The Trade Federation is all bark and no bite." She heard herself say the words as if someone else was speaking, even as Eirtaé sent her an apprehensive look from Rabé's other side. "We must be _brave_," Sabé whispered, trying to reassure both of her friends with an assurance she was completely void of.

This was not what she had expected when she become Primary Handmaiden. She was prepared to take a laser blast in the Queen's defense—but _this_ was something else altogether. Broadsided didn't describe the position Padmé's absence put her in well enough. Without Padmé here to puppet her through her guise as the Queen of Naboo, Sabé felt wholly alone, unsure if she could convincingly play Queen for whatever amount of time they would be stuck here. She guessed that everyone on board would be looking to her for reassurance and command—the Naboo were fiercely loyal to their monarchs—but Sabé wasn't sure if she could supply either. None of the intense decoy training had covered this, and she had only known Padmé for a few months. Was that enough to accurately fool everyone on board? She absently touched the center of her breastbone where Padmé's amulet lay beneath the dress. _I'll wear it again when my people are free,_ Padmé had said as she placed the necklace around Sabé's neck earlier that day. Growing distracted, Sabé rose again, wringing her hands without even realizing it as she sat back down in the throne chair, blank. She clasped her hands in her lap as Eirtaé and Rabé looked at her and then each other. None of them knew what to do. _Padmé, why did you leave? I need you now. _The desperate thought was met with silence.

Disrupting the perfect silence, Rabé's comlink buzzed loudly. All three of the girls jumped at the abrupt noise. One of the guard's voices crackled through. "Anders here. I can't get Panaka to answer his comm and there's a situation getting out of hand down here."

Rabé looked at Sabé helplessly, unsure of how to answer. Sabé took a deep, apprehensive breath and nodded, standing. "Tell him I'll be right there."

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_Author's Notes: Read and review! :)))_


	2. Chapter Two

Fried circuits, the smell of overloaded metal. The ship's hyperdrive was not wounded—it was completely dead. Having only been on Tatooine for about an hour, Obi-Wan was already on edge in the small quarters, and he wasn't the only one. The occupants of the ship (pilots, guards, a few other stragglers) had quickly gone from shocked and relieved to restless to cagey. In the bad habit of needing something to tinker with, Obi-Wan took it upon himself to haul out the junked hyperdrive in an effort to pass the time... and perhaps also to appear too busy to talk to. Although the hyperdrive was beyond repair—singed, burned, melted in places—he had immediately noticed how unlike other hyperdrives this one was—it was intricately crafted down to every last detail, a fusion of both precision art and practicality. The entire ship, from what he had seen so far, also reflected the same use of artful aesthetics fused with high-end technology. Interesting.

As he took bits and parts off, Obi-Wan swallowed his sour feelings toward the mission gone awry. The moment he and Qui-Gon had stepped onto the Trade Federation's ship, an undeniably bad feeling had come over him. And he now guessed that the Federation's attempt to kill him and his master, the droid army invasion of Naboo and the plot to kill the Queen were where the ominous foreboding had come from. And yet, the sense hadn't left. He _still_ had a bad feeling. But before he could seek an answer through the Force, he realized the conversation he had tuned out behind him was turning into an argument. Turning slightly, he saw three or four of the pilots and guards were intently speaking to one another as the rest looked on. "And besides that, we can't just sit here and do _nothing_," one of them was saying.

"But we have to be patient, Paol," another said gently. A few of the men were nodding in agreement and while others seemed only more angered by the statement.

"My _family_ was taken to the camps!" another pilot said, his voice trembling with fervor. "My children were with them, and I'll be damned if we just sit here and do nothing! We should be going back by any means necessary, not stopping! Not... _running away_!"

A ripple of anger and fear ricocheted through the pilots and guards, breeding faster than imaginable and spreading a darkness over the people—a darkness that Obi-Wan could almost taste. "You're not the only one with family out there," a tall pilot cut in, trying to keep his voice from rising to the level of the others, clearly trying to be reasonable. "We all took the same oath—to protect the Queen no matter the cost." Obi-Wan stood up, realizing he needed to quickly calm the situation before it got truly out of hand. The one called Paol was already replying to the other pilot angrily. "And you think sitting here on an outer rim planet known for gang violence and trafficking is going to keep her Highness or _any of us_ safe?"

"_Gentlemen_." A decidedly clear and commanding voice rang out, silencing the squabbles immediately. Everyone turned to look at the doorway where the Queen stood, her face the picture of regal placidness. She was visually striking, a walking art statement—face painted an unnatural white, cheeks dotted with one red dot on each cheek, a single slash of red down the middle of her lower lip. Her cape-like dress was cut in a way that added a certain imposing mystery to her small figure. Behind her and on either side, her two handmaidens stood like statues, their hooded orange flame gowns a bright contrast to her sombre black attire. Despite all the grandeur, it did little to mask her youth—she was small in stature and even though her features were painted over, her face gave away her young age. Queen Amidala fixed the guards and pilots with a cool, unreadable gaze from behind her painted face and let the stunned silence resound for a couple beats. Most of the men's faces had become chastised and sheepish. The Queen slowly, gracefully moved down to stand among them, a surprising gentleness in her deep, regal voice. "My heart is with you. I too long to return as soon as possible to aid our people." She paused again for effect, and her voice grew stronger, firmer. "But, for now, we must work together and have _patience_. We are no use to our people dead. We are of no use to our people _divided_, either." Her dark brown eyes flickered over to Obi-Wan, cursory and almost distrusting before she refocused on her subjects, allowing a small smile to stretch through her painted features. "I trust Jedi Master Jinn to find a solution to the matter—and I encourage you all to do the same."

She glanced back at Obi-Wan, and he knew instinctively that despite her words to the contrary, she did not trust either him or his Master at all, but was merely trying to pacify the ship's occupants. Everyone else in the room was now looking at him, too, following her gaze. Some looking hopeful, but most apprehensive and even a bit hostile. "Please, be patient and take heart," Amidala said, readdressing her people. Even though her voice remained deep and calm, Obi-Wan heard the faintest flicker of anxiety in her voice, noticed how she held her hands clenched at her sides. "I believe we can be confident that back home, our families are fighting and surviving. We may not have weapons, but we have strength. We have heart. And we _will_ return to our home soon."

A quiet smattering of applause and affirmations broke out among the crew, and apparently satisfied that the crew had calmed down to the degree she desired, the Queen nodded gracefully, glanced at Obi-Wan again, and turned on her heel, disappearing though the doorway in a swirl of black gown, her silent handmaidens behind her.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood a good distance from the ship, arms folded and mind full. He had slipped outside just a moment after the Queen had disappeared, the argument and subsequent stares enough to convince him that he needed some air and space. Being in a ship full of people who were writing off their problems onto him wasn't ideal, to say the least. It seemed like Qui-Gon was always doing this kind of thing to him—while his master took care of the dynamics of the mission, Obi-Wan was stuck with babysitting. Sometimes he wondered if it were on purpose, as Qui-Gon _was_ always saying Obi-Wan was too impatient, too judgmental, and too reckless. But all these lessons just made him _more_ impatient.

He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension building in the muscles there, squinted out across the bright sand and at the city skyline in the distance. A hot, dry wind was rapidly picking up, scattering sand across Obi-Wan's booted feet, whipping his robe into a small frenzy. It was moments like this when he was alone and, quite frankly, bored, that he struggled the most. He preferred to keep on the move, always facing new problems and issues head on. In the quiet moments where all he could do was be still, he grew restless.

Master Yoda encouraged him to be mindful of the future, to meditate on possibilities, to connect himself to the living Force. And at the opposite spectrum, Master Qui-Gon taught that focus should be on the present moment, that Obi-Wan should live in the _now_. Forever trying to reconcile these two differing viewpoints, Obi-Wan let out a long sigh as held up a hand to shield his eyes from the heat and light of the Tatooine twin suns. _What a bland planet._ They had set the ship down just far enough outside of the city to avoid unnecessary attention on a flat, pale bedrock. Boulders and rocks scattered the area unevenly and to the west, the distant silhouette of jagged mountains gave way to an endless void of sand dunes that stretched far south as far as he could see.

Without warning, a strange sense of warning shimmered over him. But before he could even acknowledge the sensation, it was gone. Letting his eyes fall closed as he pressed forward into the living Force, Obi-Wan pursued the fleeting sensation. Here, everything was brighter, more vivid, truer, more serene. The outside world fell away as he let himself become fully aware of the Force and its will, its truth. Here, he wasn't a body but a being, a clairvoyant spirit—a bright flame given life by the pristine light of the Force. He could sense the approaching sand storm now, see it spiraling into being and feel its rapid approach through the Force and the many pinpricks of lifeforms scurrying out of its way. But he hadn't slipped into the Force to seek out the storm's wake or direction; he was looking for that fleeting sense of _wrongness_. It was there just barely, an ever-present thrumming sensation of unease permeating the Force. It was so faint that he thought he had imagined it, but then over the dull thrum, a dark and foreboding feeling radiated through the Force like a muffled shockwave; just a split second of malice flattening against that general sense of unease. Obi-Wan's eyes opened in surprise and trepidation. Oh, he had a _bad feeling_ about all this. The wind picked up again and with more gusto, bringing grains of sand to sting Obi-Wan's hands and face.

Suddenly aware of an approaching presence, Obi-Wan turned to see that Captain Panaka was walking up behind him, a generally grim look on his face. They had been quickly introduced earlier, and Obi-Wan had already learned two things: the captain was impatient and trusted no one's methods but his own. Obi-Wan shielded his own face from the growing wind and sand carried in it as the captain came to a stop beside him. "This storm's going to slow them down."

Panaka nodded, expression difficult to read. "It looks pretty bad. We'd better seal the ship." His comlink sounded off. "Yes?"

"_Receiving a message from home."_

The Jedi and the Captain exchanged a cryptic glance. "We'll be right there." Even as they turned and walked in tandem back toward the ship, Obi-Wan's feelings and senses already told him that this turn of events would not be good. He already suspected any message would be either a plea for help they were not capable of giving, or a trap. As they strode up the ramp, Panaka barked out a couple orders at the two guards there to seal the ship. When they reached the throne room, the Queen and her two handmaidens waited silently. Their faces gave away little, but the room was filled with with a the clear sense of nervous distress. "What's happened?" Panaka demanded without any pretense whatsoever.

One of the handmaidens stepped forward slightly. "Our pilot intercepted the transmission on a home channel. It seems to have originated from Theed." Her words were clear, quiet, and simple, but Obi-Wan clearly heard the unmistakable tremble of fear in her young voice. Glancing at the Queen, he saw a complete mask. But in her lap, her hands gripped each other like a vice.

"Play the transmission," Panaka ordered, and both he and Obi-Wan took a seat as a very low quality transmission appeared before them.

"_Queen Amidala, I've only managed to get this message to you...The Trade Federation has cut off all food supplies until you return...droids in the streets...the death toll is catastrophic...we _must _bow to their wishes, Your Highness... you _must_ contact me..._" the transmission ended abruptly, leaving the throne room in a stunned silence. Obi-Wan rose decisively and looked between both Queen Amidala and Panaka's shocked faces. Seeing no point in softening the blow, Obi-Wan spoke very firmly. "It's a trick, send no reply. Send no transmission of any kind."

He turned to leave. "Wait." Obi-Wan paused at the door, turning back to see that Queen Amidala had risen stiffly and was taking a small step toward him. "How do you know it's a trick?" The question was simple enough, but he heard all the subtleties of it: doubt in his judgement, fear for her people. Her dark eyes seemed ablaze, demanding more than the bare minimum of information.

Obi-Wan glanced from her to Panaka, whose stern expression was directed surprisingly at the monarch, as if Queen Amidala were expected to ask permission before speaking. Obi-Wan turned his gaze back to the young Queen. "You must trust me, Your Highness," he said simply. She just looked at him, her expression an unsettled frown. Without another word, Obi-Wan left.

* * *

The royal chambers were tucked into the nose of the ship on the top level. They were small but elegantly designed, including pullout wall beds and a beautiful mirrored bureau beside the Queen's grand bed. The smallest of viewports allowed for a glimpse of the outside world, which was currently a dull beige color as the sandstorm still raged, easy to hear even through the hull of the ship. Sabé sat on the Queen's bed far back enough where she could rest her aching neck against the curved headboard. She half-watched Rabé and Eirtaé as they unenthusiastically played their ninth round of sabacc cards. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with their hoods down, Sabé was struck by how it might have been a funny sight any other day or time to see the normally regal and symmetry-obsessed handmaidens so casually sprawled on the floor. Eirtaé's striking blonde hair was braided and coiled tightly at the nape of her neck, while Rabé's dark hair loosely cascaded over her shoulders. Sabé felt the smallest pang of envy—she used to think the handmaiden's gowns with all their long skirts and oversized sleeves were bad enough (after all, she had spent the last four years in the comfort of jumpsuits and guard uniforms). But now, wearing a royal gown that weighed as much as she did complete with a top-heavy headdress and intricate face paint, she realized the handmaidens gowns weren't as bad as she believed them to be.

"You've bombed out," Eirtaé announced dully, and Rabé just sighed, setting down her cards in defeat. Eirtaé looked at Sabé again, her pale blue eyes almost accusing. "Sabé, are you going to play or not?" Unsure of what time it was or how many hours had passed, Sabé felt glazed over, drained of energy, detached. She heard herself answer "no" to Eirtaé's question automatically.

Eirtaé looked long and hard at Sabé and with an annoyed huff, she threw down her cards and stood, raised her hood up and wordlessly exited. Rabé stared after her for several seconds, then looked back at Sabé, smiling weakly and shrugging. "Shouldn't I be the one who's upset? She beat me seven times."

"She's not mad with either of us, Rabé. Don't take it personally," Sabé replied, but doubted Rabé would listen to such a contrite, tired piece of advice. Sabé slowly sat up and subsequently groaning at the stiffness in her neck. Rabé said nothing, but began dutifully picking up the cards where they had scattered messily across the floor.

Sabé glanced for the hundredth time at the comlink where it silently sat on the bedside table. Of all the times for a sandstorm. She was unsure if she had ever been this desperate for a comlink to sound off—but the general hope was that Padmé would be able to get a message through to them at some point if she could convince Qui-Gon to let her borrow the comlink. On second thought, the long range, the storm, the small chance Qui-Gon would lend his comlink... maybe the chances weren't so good that they would hear from Padmé at all.

"Sabé?" Rabé's small, soft voice startled Sabé. Rabé held all the Sabacc cards in her hand, looking between them and Sabé anxiously. "Do you think we can trust these Jedi?"

The question was simple enough, but it inspired a complex string of feelings and thoughts that Sabé considered momentarily before answering honestly. Based on Kenobi's blasé reaction to Sio Bibble's transmission, she wasn't sure what to think of the Jedi. Growing up she'd heard stories of Jedi's bravery and selflessness in helping others. She'd heard stories of selfless heroes who had _died_ for the helpless and weak. And then she had seen Obi-Wan Kenobi watch a transmission without even blinking twice at the Governor's pleas. _It's a trick. Send no reply. Send no transmission of any kind. _Still stung by the clipped, unexplained orders, Sabé worked her jaw in thought. How could he be sure? He hadn't even run the clip through an analysis. He didn't know Bibble and didn't seem to care if the message were true or not—just immediately assumed the plea for help was a trap at best and went along on his merry way of being useless and patronizing. A sour taste in her mouth, Sabé found herself wondering if maybe the benevolent Jedi she had heard of in stories were just legends.

Sabé looked at Rabé in the eye and answered honestly. "I don't know."

* * *

It was very late into the night and Obi-Wan walked quietly through the ship, listening to the soft creaks of the hull. About ten uneventful hours had passed since Qui-Gon had ventured out into Tatooine in search of a new hyperdrive. It didn't look like he would be returning with the part that night. So, the ragtag occupants of the royal starship had, for the most part, settled in for the night, sleeping wherever they could find a spot. Blankets were in short supply but luckily the ship had decent insulation from the frigid desert night climate. Other than himself, no one else was awake except Panaka, who was below, "organizing the droid hold"—whatever that meant. There was nothing to be organized down there, but Panaka seemed to share Obi-Wan's need to be doing something when unable to do anything. The captain had only grown more leery since the transmission had come in that afternoon. It was a selfish thought, but Obi-Wan almost wished the transmission from Naboo hadn't been announced to anyone but himself. He probably wouldn't have even let the Queen or the Captain see it, as it only agitated the two of them further, made them both even more highly on edge—which was just what the ship needed. More disoriented fear and confusion. Obi-Wan sighed deeply, distracted.

After the transmission from Governor Bibble had come in, Obi-Wan had immediately established contact with his Master, relaying the new information to him—and in turn Qui-Gon had told him about a slave boy named Anakin Skywalker. Apparently, Anakin was yet another "irresistible" as Obi-Wan called them—people and sentient beings who Qui-Gon took pity on or saw potential in and took it upon himself to care for. He supposed he couldn't complain though. When Obi-Wan had been twelve _he _had been Qui-Gon's choice. It was a strange balance, the two of them together. A rogue visionary like Qui-Gon with a by-the-book Padawan like Obi-Wan had made for some... _interesting_ scenarios. Obi-Wan had been time and time again horrified by Qui-Gon's penchant for defying the council and the Jedi Code—he still never fully felt comfortable in following his master's more inane schemes, even they _did_ always seem to work in the end. He could only hope Qui-Gon would find a solution to the hyperdrive crisis quickly, not letting his interest in this Anakin boy slow him down. As for Obi-Wan, he would be more watchful of communications and continue to keep the crew here on the starship _Pristine_ in good spirits. Or, attempt to. They were all very wary of him. Some people revered Jedi as gods, some treated them like the scum of the galaxy. The people of Naboo were somewhere in the middle but Obi-Wan didn't feel it was his place to change their minds.

Obi-Wan paused mid stride as he passed the doorway into the main hold where the tech station was. His keen hearing picked up on a strange, muffled sound that was not mechanical. He looked around the corner and saw a moment he was not supposed to. She was nearly within arms reach and yet she didn't notice him at all, so entranced by the flickering blue holo transmission, her face contorted painfully as she re-watched Governor Bibble's plea. Queen Amidala's mask of paint could not hide her grief, and letting out a soft gasping sob, several tears poured out onto her painted cheeks, her hands coming to her face in a gesture of completely overwhelmed grief. Uneasy at the sight and unsure what to do, Obi-Wan was frozen—and then she saw him.

The somber dress and makeup didn't help make her appear any less like a child caught doing something wrong, and she was momentarily stunned into stillness as the flickering image of Sio Bibble's distraught face played on, looping endlessly. She looked at him with dark eyes full of surprising emotion in contrast to the stoic Queen he had encountered earlier—the paint couldn't hide the shock. Fear. Worry. Vulnerability. And then he felt a surprisingly strong pull in his heart. Sympathy. He hesitated and then reached over in front of her, switching off the recording himself. "Milady... you mustn't torture yourself." It was as much advice as it was a gentle command.

Her expression changed, her mouth worked strangely, and either angered or embarrassed, she silently brushed past him, gone in a soft whisper of feathers. Obi-Wan stared after her into the dark, and then back at where the transmission had been. An uneasy feeling overcame him. And two questions he had asked himself earlier came back again, stronger this time, demanding to be answered: What if it was true? What if people really were dying?


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Morning dawned on Tatooine and while Eirtaé and Rabé slept like they were dead in their pullout cots, Sabé watched the suns crawl up the horizon from the tiny viewing window alone, blinking against heavy eyelids. The sandstorm had left the outside world looking exactly as it had the day before. Desolate and endless.

After being discovered by Obi-Wan, Sabé had snuck back into the royal bedchambers and not even bothered to take off the Queen's gown. Sleep had been unthinkable for her at that point—she had never been able to sleep in times of high stress and had lost years of sleep already in her young life of eighteen years. Hoping against hope that the Kenobi wouldn't mention last night's incident to anyone, Sabé wished again that she could take back the impromptu decision. She had only meant to watch the transmission to assess its integrity—she was no communications or media expert, however, she had basic training in both and the best of intentions. But Sio Bibble's face and words so full of real fear had struck a chord in her and sent spiraling out of control a horrible series of terrors. The stress of her guise as Queen had suddenly paled in comparison to the reality befalling her people. And in the midst of these thoughts, Obi-Wan Kenobi had interrupted. _His timing couldn't have been any worse_, she thought sullenly.

She didn't cry in front of people. _Ever. _Especially not strangers who demanded trust and respect without earning it. But, she supposed she could only blame herself for not controlling her emotions better—but how could she have? Now she realized she felt what the pilots and guards had been arguing about yesterday. Yesterday she had been too caught up in her own selfish fears about portraying Amidala to confront the reality of the situation. But now it was all she could think about. People back home were dying and there was _nothing_ she could do about it. Again, the image of the little girl with blonde curls being mercilessly shot came back to her. Chilled and enraged at the same time, Sabé realized she was clenching her jaw, grinding her teeth. She had trained all those years and climbed the security force ranks not to sit back and pretend to be an unaffected Queen when her planet needed her. She wanted, no, _needed_ to stand and fight. And yet all she could do was sit—wait—project calm indifference when in reality she wanted to claw through the space separating her from her home and crush anyone who dared to hurt Naboo—who dared to kill its innocent children without a second thought.

_I should have never taken the position as Primary Handmaiden. _The thought startled her even though it wasn't the first time it had crossed her mind. She had been highly unsure about the position at first when Captain Panaka suggested it to her. She preferred the security forces to a life of what she assumed would be braiding hair, wearing ridiculous gowns, and tucking a prissy Queen into bed at night. But at Panaka's insistence and reassurance, she had taken the position and had been pleasantly surprised: the role had suited her well, the sisterhood of handmaidens had been almost like being part of a family. All of the other girls had given her new perspectives and their friendship had grown tight-knit in the short amount of time they had known each other. Sabé had quickly and surprisingly grown to love all of them, especially Padmé who was immensely caring and even more stubborn, driven by an unbelievably kind heart. But despite everything Sabé had gained, she couldn't help but wish to be back on Naboo, in uniform and with her long-time friends in the security forces. If she hadn't accepted the handmaiden position, that's where she would be. Doing _something_ instead of absolutely _nothing_.

Hearing one of the other girls stirring, Sabé turned from her private thoughts. "Sabé?" it was Eirtaé, sitting up and looking at her with a soft frown. With her long blonde hair down and messy, her eyes still bleary from sleep, she was still striking. "How did you get dressed without us?" she asked, and all business, was already standing up and rummaging for the Queen's makeup compact.

"I didn't take it off," Sabé answered honestly, sitting down on the side of the Queen's empty bed. Her back ached, her feet hurt, her mind felt sluggish.

Eirtaé stopped, pursing her lips reprovingly. "_Sabé_..." she sighed, then softened. "You should have woken me up, I would have helped you." Eirtaé swirled a makeup brush lightly into the chalky white powder compact as she came to stand in front of Sabé.

"I couldn't sleep."

Stopping mid-swirl, Eirtaé softened even more, understanding. "You were worried."

Sabé paused uncertainty before answering, averting her gaze. "Yes. And there was also... an incident." She looked at Eirtaé with trepidation.

Eirtaé's eyebrows rose and Sabé sighed as Eirtaé bent and silently began reapplying the white base powder over her face. Eyes closed against the soft fluttering of the brush, Sabé explained everything that had happened—skimming over the less-flattering details of the exact amount of her personal distress. "And he told me not to watch it, then switched it off." Sabé said idly.

Eirtaé looked distinctly disconcerted, pausing. "Do you think he'll tell Captain Panaka?"

"I don't see why he would, but... I don't know." Sabé said, staring off somewhere to Eirtaé's left blankly, another wave of fatigue washing over her. It was probably nothing to worry about, but _everything_ seemed like it mattered right now.

Eirtaé took out the red compact, swirling a smaller brush carefully and dotting Sabé's cheeks with care, leaving one crisp red dot on each cheek. The dots were to highlight the symmetry of the Queen's face, to reflect the artistic and philosophical values of balance so deeply ingrained in the Naboo people. Eirtaé scrunched her nose in concentration as she made the dots. This was the Eirtaé that Sabé liked best. Alone and relaxed, she was less harsh and imposing—surprisingly likable. Of all her other sister handmaidens, Sabé had disliked Eirtaé at first, mistaking her for prudish and stuck up, when in reality, those personality traits were merely defense mechanisms—and had risen from crushed pride. After all, Eirtaé had campaigned for the position of Queen and lost to Padmé.

Eirtaé drew back to carefully look over her work, taking Sabé's chin in her hand and carefully looking over the dots for perfect symmetry. Sabé could see that she was thinking intently. "I don't know much about Jedi, do you? I've heard lots of stories, most made up probably. They seem like very... _standoffish_ people. Like you never know what they're really thinking." She let go of Sabé's chin, her voice taking on a distinctly secretive and gossipy quality. "I've heard they steal babies."

Sabé snorted. "Eirtaé, what have I told you about listening to rumors? Jedi take infants from _willing_ parents."

Eirtaé carefully split Sabé's lip with the traditional scar of remembrance in a single, deft stroke, ignoring the reprimand. "It's still a violation of sentient rights. People should be able to choose if they want to be a Jedi or not."

"Apparently the Force decides for them," Sabé said, and Eirtaé gave her a look like she had just sprouted Gungan ears.

"You don't actually believe that drivel, do you?" On Naboo, people followed polytheistic belief systems, but Sabé was not one. No god or goddess had ever shown grace or kindness to her nor to those in her life and she had never cared one way or another about the Force. She had attributed it to be from the same imaginations that had created the imaginary gods and goddesses of her planet. But then she had seen Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Felt the power and energy surrounding them, seen them fight using an agility that was superhuman. Sabé gave her friend a playful smile, neither confirming or denying that she believed 'that drivel.'

Letting it go, Eirtaé looked over Sabé's refreshed makeup once more, nodding at a satisfactory job and snapping the red compact shut. "Well, anyway, you look more like the Queen again."

Sabé nodded a silent thanks, again feeling the fatigue wash over her as she scrutinized Eirtaé. She was often especially difficult to read emotionally since she kept her true feelings deep. "Eirtaé... are you all right? With everything that's happened?"

Eirtaé shrugged softly, sitting down beside Sabé. "It helps not to think much about it. I..." she became visibly emotional. "I just hope my family..." she stopped and shook her head. "And I can't stop thinking about that little girl and her family they just _killed_ like that."

Sabé again felt righteous anger course through her veins, and her words held a graveness she didn't know existed inside herself. "I _promise_ you Eirtaé... when the time comes, we will fight."

Eirtaé nodded, chin jutting out oddly as she fought her tears. The girls embraced gently. Eirtaé's shoulders shook in tears, but Sabé couldn't feel any more sorrow at the moment, only a dull anger. "I can't wait to get off this rock," Eirtaé said, wiping her face with her hands as she pulled away from the hug. Sabé couldn't have agreed more.

"Good morning," came the sleepy voice of Rabé, who was stretching in her cot and was completely oblivious to everything that had just happened.

Standing, Sabé put her hands on her hips in a very un-Queenly fashion, attempting to banish the somber mood settling over the room. "Good morning, sleepyhead." Rabé smiled a bit reluctantly, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest. She looked as distracted as she had yesterday, but at least she had slept. Sabé clasped her hands decisively and then motioned for Rabé to get up. "Let's get you two dressed and go see how the crew is this morning. I'm hungry."

A few moments later, dressed in the safe anonymity of their hooded robes, Rabé and Eirtaé followed her into the main hold where the rest of the crew was either still sleeping or quietly sitting around in conversations or card games with one another. At the entrance of the Queen, everyone stood, a couple of the crew offering to fetch her the daily rationing of foodstuffs. In turn, Sabé thanked the pilots for their service, listened to their numerous suggestions and praises meant for Padmé—she committed all of the conversations to memory to tell Padmé later. All the while, Obi-Wan Kenobi quietly sat in a corner, languidly sorting out the contents of his belt pack, giving the impression of vague disinterest in surroundings. But every few minutes, Sabé felt his piercing, calculating gaze on her and shrank under it. Jedi were famous throughout the galaxy for their abilities to see through deception and some even believed they could read minds. Sabé determined to give the appearance of calmness and took her time taking breakfast and speaking with the crew despite the constant looks from Kenobi. Finally she excused herself.

"What's wrong?" Eirtaé asked as soon as the door shut behind them and they were back in their private chambers.

Sabé stopped and turned dramatically, agitated and hyper in a way that dead exhaustion made her. "I feel like he _knows_."

Confused, Rabé looked from Eirtaé to Sabé. "Am I missing something? Who knows what?"

"I'll explain later," Eirtaé muttered, giving the other girl a fleeting glance before fixing Sabé with one of her more patronizing looks. "You're just being paranoid, Sabé. Lack of sleep can make one very paranoid."

Sabé looked at Eirtaé with narrow eyes, unsure whether she should laugh or frown. "You're making that up, Eirtaé."

"Well it certainly can't _help_," Eirtaé said defensively with a shrug. Rabé looked from both her friends in confusion, but didn't seem to care enough to ask questions, and instead sighed and put her hands in the air. "I'm going to go find Captain Panaka."

"I'll come with you," Eirtaé said, to which Rabé gave her a knowing smirk. "You just want to see if you can talk to Paol more, don't you?"

Eirtaé balked. "Rabé, don't be ridiculous."

"Come on, Rabé—Paol is just scenery. We all know Eirtaé is _really_ in love with Will Chamberlyn," Sabé said with a coy smile, to which Eirtaé immediately flushed red.

"I most certainly am not," she squeaked.

Rabé grinned. "Comlink us if you need anything," she said to Sabé, and with that, they were gone. The lightness of the moment gradually faded, leaving Sabé alone with darker thoughts. She slowly sat down on the edge of the Queen's bed, feet barely reaching the floor, dress feeling heavier and more restrictive than she remembered it being yesterday. The silence sank in, the warm presence of her friends fading back into cold reality. She would usually have been glad for the silence and solitude, but today she wasn't. Instead she was aware, again, of how alone she felt. _Padmé, where are you when I need you? _There was no feeling of security in the currently situation, no normal ebb and flow. All she could do was wait and will the hours to pass faster. So as the time passed, she sorted through the drawers of the Queen's console, paced back and forth, sat still, examined her fingernails, halfheartedly retouched the royal makeup, if only going through the motions. Should she make another appearance to the crew to rouse spirits? She didn't know. She grabbed a datapad and wrote a would-be journal entry, erased it all angrily when she read it back. In any other scenario like this, she would have most liked to be running or sparring, somehow physically driving herself into enough pain and fatigue that she couldn't respond to her emotional duress. But she was stuck in the stillness and _so tired_. Finally, she laid down (carefully as to not bend any feathers in the obscenely heavy headdress), and her eyes fell closed in sleepiness. For a moment, she felt like she were spinning, the fatigue making her dizzy. Then without warning, she saw her father's smiling face. She heard sound of his laughter, felt the smooth, cool stone of her childhood home's floor on bare feet as her mother sang in the other room. Saw sunlight flashing on the ripples in the lake country—they used to vacation there together. She could almost smell the fresh flowers and feel the warm kiss of sun. Most of all, she remembered feeling safe. And then everything had been ripped away without warning.

Her mother had died of illness when she was only four, but her father had somehow brought them through it. Done his very best to raise a little girl all on his own, which hadn't been easy. He worked a night shift doing private security for a plasma refinery, slept while she was in school, was awake when she got home. Somehow he made it work. Eventually, life stabilized. It wasn't as beautiful and bright anymore—even at such a young age, she had carried a sadness and hurt that was beyond her years. Eventually, just when life seemed normal again, everything changed again. On the tenth day of the second month, he had been fatally shot in a pirate raid on the refinery. At the time, private security officers weren't allowed to carry weapons. A law that existed to promote _peace_. And so Thrace Nebira had died a victim of Naboo's backwards security laws and defenselessness, leaving behind a daughter who didn't understand and had already lost too much.

_The sky hadn't been gray. Why hadn't it been gray? Eight years old and now without parents, Sabé had stayed graveside as everyone else paid their respects and left to return to their lives. But she didn't want to leave. She felt like the moment she walked away, she would truly lose him. So she stood there, clothed in heavy black and shivering with tears and anger as the sun continued to shine cheerfully. How dare the universe take away both of her parents and leave her like this? Aunt Carra, beautiful, gaunt, and austere was waiting at the landspeeder impatiently, double checking her makeup as Uncle Deg talked politics with one of his businessmen friends. It was as if nothing were wrong. Cloé, nanny in tow, laughed and clapped her hands as two birds hopped across the grass nearby. Cloé, only three at the time, didn't really understand what was happening and Sabé had known that. Nevertheless, the sound of laughter had caused something to snap inside Sabé. Marching over she brutally struck her cousin in the face, knocking the little girl to the ground. Sabé then screamed at the shocked onlookers that she hated everyone. She kicked Cloé's nanny in the shin with all her strength and then ran off toward the swamps, weeping in a way that a little girl should not know how._

The first few months had been similar. Her aunt and uncle had awkwardly tried their best, but preferred it when Sabé was shut away in her room so that they could live their own family life like before. The tantrums, mood swings and depression hadn't been out of spite or hatred, it had merely been her way of coping and telling the world that she was unequivocally _not all right_ with what had happened in her short lifetime. After four months, they called child services and with a photo of her family, clothes stuffed hurriedly into a bag and nothing else, Sabé entered a group home as a ward of the monarchy. In less political terms, an orphan.

It was still hard not to feel bitter about that. Family was supposed to last forever but she had been discarded. Sabé remembered her years at the group home as lonely and angry. The only thing that remained the same was school. Days came and went, and Sabé became a staunch perfectionist in her schoolwork and a recluse in social situations. The other children labeled her a tomboy and a "laserbrain." Somehow all of the rejection and cruelty taught her to be self sufficient and self reliant. Instead of skipping classes to carve graffiti and smoke death sticks like some of the others, she threw herself into schoolwork and extra curricular activities. To her, knowledge and ability was the drug she got high from. She filled every spare moment with either sleep or learning, speaking little and listening a lot. The more she knew or was physically capable of, the better she felt, the more capable of protecting herself.

When she had reached age thirteen she had signed herself into the Security Forces—her main motivation had been a place to sleep and money in her account. But now, her life as a public servant was who she was.

Sabé opened her eyes, and was met with the somber smooth metal and grey surfaces of the ship around her. The soft whirring of the air recycling comforted her somehow in that moment. She felt sad when she thought of her younger self. She had come a long way since then—come to terms with many of the things that had held her back before. The security forces had been exactly what she had needed and wanted. And yet, the knowledge and training in the world couldn't help right now. All she could do was wait and hope for the best. But hoping never produced change in her experience. Another reason sitting and waiting was hard right now. She stood again, restless. Eager to be in a position where she at least felt as if she were moving the situation forward, where action drowned out the noise of grief... and yet she couldn't stop herself from wondering, like always, why she couldn't remember her mother's face at all.

And at that moment, the door buzzed and Eirtaé's hooded head peered in, startling Sabé. "We're wanted in the throne room. Jedi Kenobi has news from Master Jinn." Sabé sat up faster than she thought she could have, and already halfway to Eirtaé, Sabé didn't bother with the floaty, slow walk of Queen Amidala and instead strode quickly. Perhaps Padmé and Qui-Gon were on their way back with the hyperdrive at this very moment!

Slowing as they entered the throne room, Sabé nodded a somber acknowledgement to both Kenobi and Panaka. Obi-Wan gave a small, customary bow as she glided in. As she took her seat on the throne and Rabé and Eirtaé took their positions on either side of the throne, Sabé looked him over thoroughly, trying to get a solid read. He stood in a wide stance with arms folded, gaze on her but not truly focused. Everything about him displayed arrogance and boredom. He really was quite handsome, but unfortunately the bad-tempered expression on his face ruined any chance his looks would change her mind about him.

He narrowed his eyes just slightly as if he could sense her thoughts were about him, and in turn his face took on a canned, patronizing smile. "Good day, your highness. I trust you slept well?" Sabé felt her eyebrows raise in surprise—was that question supposed to be humorous? His expression gave away nothing, but she got the distinct sense he was either making fun of her or being condescending. Either way, he was beginning to try her patience.

Still, she pressed forward cordially, reacting in a way Padmé might. "Please, Ambassador, I hardly think my resting patterns matter. What is the message from your master? Does he have the hyperdrive?"

He let a good beat fill the silence, and she could swear yet again that he saw right through her. Captain Panaka stood near the bench with a generally apprehensive look on his face. He gave Obi-Wan a terse look. Under the two glares from Panaka and Sabé, he seemed to decide to cut to the chase. "My master has met a slave boy who shows great aptitude in podracing. He plans to enter this boy into a race and has placed bets on his win to secure a new hyperdrive." _What?_ Sabé had to force herself not to double-take. Gambling? Slaves? Podracing? That was not what anyone had been expecting to hear. But Obi-Wan wasn't finished. Without any sort of empathy or warning, he continued. "He has wagered this ship."

Beside her and speechless, Panaka blinked, but Sabé had risen to her feet in utter shock, unable to stop herself. "_Gambling_? Your master has put this entire ship and its occupants at risk on the uncertainty of a _bet_? Surely there is another way!"

"My Master believes this is the best option, Your Highness," he answered evenly, no indication of a reaction to her distress, no small hint of compassion or understanding to her question.

Almost boiling over with enraged indignance, Sabé realized she had stepped closer to Obi-Wan and even as she spoke, that her voice was her own, not Amidala's. "And_ why_ wasn't I consulted before this decision was made? These are my people and our fate and your Master doesn't even bother to check with me or my captain first?"

"Your _Highness_." Panaka said, his tone distinctly reprimanding. which drew a surprised look from Obi-Wan.

"_No_, Captain. Let him answer the question." Sabé's voice was dangerously calm as she trained Obi-Wan with a deadly gaze.

Obi-Wan's mouth twitched and a muscle jerked in his jaw as he carefully kept his voice slow and even. "I understand it is not the most... _expected_ course of action, but I am not in a position to question my Master's decisions."

"Well _I_ am," Sabé retorted hotly.

Obi-Wan raised a challenging eyebrow, still cool as shade. "Then _you_ may discuss that with him when he returns." He narrowed his eyes at her just slightly. "Your Highness, I respectfully ask that you listen to reason. I didn't have to tell you my Master's plans. But out of respect I decided I should." He didn't sound respectful in the least. He sounded _annoyed_.

Stunned by his line of reasoning, Sabé was rendered momentarily speechless. Who did these Jedi think they were, anyway? She had to bite her tongue to avoid a remark that was most certainly not befitting a lady. His attitude of dismissal toward the woman he thought was Queen was an insult, wholly disrespectful. She sat very slowly, very deliberately, fixing Obi-Wan Kenobi with an arctic gaze and she took her time before speaking. "Very well. You are _dismissed_, Ambassador." She raised her eyebrow just slightly and didn't break the stare. She didn't miss the twitch in his cheek as he realized she was going to have the last word and keep control over him. He didn't even bother bowing, but walked straight out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the smug look was replaced by sheer anger, and Sabé rocketed to her feet. "Who does that man think he is?! How rude... thoughtless... disrespectful..." she rambled, too shaken up and lost in a list of Obi-Wan's negative attributes to even prepare herself for Panaka's wrath. She collapsed back into the throne, still fuming, blind to anything else but her own fury.

Eirtaé and Rabé shrank back slightly as Panaka removed his hat with slow, too-calm precision. "_Out_," he said to the two handmaidens, his voice deadly calm and quiet. They quickly complied and Sabé suddenly realized she had a problem bigger than Obi-Wan Kenobi's ego.

* * *

"On your _feet_, Lieutenant."

Apparently startled by the use of her former military rank, Sabé stood immediately, ramrod straight. Captain Panaka fixed her with a stern glare and let the silence fill the air for a long moment. Finally, pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head, trying to measure out patience in his words. "Sabé, I have _never_ witnessed such behavior!"

She looked vaguely startled, but still too angry to be chastised. It was hard to tell with the makeup. Panaka expelled an exasperated breath, shaking his head at her again and holding his mouth closed against the torrent of angry comments ready to charge forward. He resorted to his normal coping mechanism: pacing. He was so very disappointed at her lack of self control; and not only disappointed, by shocked at the gall of her comments to the Jedi. Panaka didn't trust or like the Jedi any more than she did, but she should have done the diplomatic thing, not fallen back on her off-the-cuff reactions.

Among the others in the security division, she had earned the nickname "Ice Queen" for her coolness and control under pressure—well, if the ones who had given her that name could have seen her today. Panaka had to remind himself of Sabé's newness to this role as decoy Queen and also as handmaiden. She was still getting used to her new directives and tasks and if he was honest with himself, he never thought the decoy plan would need to be implemented. She probably hadn't truly thought it would ever be a reality, either. And certainly not so soon in Padmé's monarchy. However, all of those things were no excuse for Sabé's childish outburst.

He stopped pacing and crossed his arms, looking at Sabé unhappily. She was now looking down at the floor. Even though she was more masked than he had ever seen her, he could tell that she was tired, worried, upset. The situation had gotten to her. Panaka felt himself soften toward her and what he knew she was going through. He had known her longer than any of the other handmaidens and they had faced many tough situations together. Still, she held everyone at arms length, especially him since he was her commander. She normally came off as tough, resilient, detached. And yet, he had known her long enough to know that was all a front. She felt just as much as the rest of them, maybe even more. But she would never admit her weaknesses or ask for help on personal matters. He sighed softly. Perhaps that was a fault he held as well.

Sabé hesitantly met his gaze. "Captain, I—I apologize. I was overcome with anger, and I just—" she shook her head, and there was honest regret in her voice, but also desperation. "We don't _know_ these Jedi—I don't trust them!"

Panaka was slow in his reply, measuring his words to include gentleness and reproof all at once. "I was angry, too. But you will _compromise the gambit_ losing hold of your tongue like that, Sabé." He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead.

"I know," she replied bitterly. She suddenly looked close to tears. And there she was—the vulnerable Sabé Nebira who appeared at the most unexpected and rarest of times, catching him off guard.

Softening all over again, Panaka placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had placed too much responsibility on her shoulders. "Sabé... this isn't you against the galaxy. We're here with you. _I'm_ here with you." Those dark eyes of hers looked back into his, awash in uncertainty. He spoke softer now, secretively. "I don't know if I trust the Jedi, either. Just keep your emotions in check. And get some rest. This is a secret that cannot be revealed."

She drew in a deep breath and set her mouth decisively, clasped her hands together at her waist, appropriately put in her place and appearing to be centered again. "Yes. I know." She set her jaw and nodded once. "It won't happen again, Captain."

Satisfied with her apology, he tapped her under the chin affectionately, and received a shy, embarrassed smile in return. She was damned impossible sometimes. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. But that was one of the reasons he loved her, he guessed.

* * *

It seemed that the only place where Obi-Wan could escape the feeling of claustrophobia was the outside of the ship, and despite the heat of the later afternoon, underneath the belly of the gleaming starship was temperate. The sloping sand dunes and crystal blue sky of Tatooine had a calming effect on Obi-Wan, which was much needed after the little scene in the throne room moments ago. Nearby, a herd of Banthas slowly milled in, probably curious about the shiny, unfamiliar ship. He watched the creatures with the mildest of interest, leaning against one of the landing gears and stilling his mind of worries and distractions—and irritations. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take being stuck with the self-righteous Naboo and their bratty Queen. It had, after all, only been a little over a day that they had been on Tatooine. The thought was depressing. He kicked at the sandy ground with the toe of his boot absently as a dry breeze swept underneath the starship. Truthfully, betting the ship on the outcome of a race wasn't what he would have done. He had done his share of reckless things before, but only when he knew he could control the outcome. Only when the end justified the means. He scowled off into the distance. They could be stuck here a very long time if Qui-Gon's plan went wrong. And still, that vague sense of unease permeating the Force nagged at him. Just at the periphery, he still felt it.

Presently, he heard footsteps on the ship's ramp and recognized the voices of the Queen and Panaka. The captain led Queen Amidala down the ramp, all the while pointing at the herd of Bantha. Because he was standing behind and back a bit from the ramp, neither noticed Obi-Wan at first. When Captain Panaka turned and glanced around in all directions, he spotted Obi-Wan, said something quietly to the Queen, and strode over. "Thought the Queen might like to see a few of the locals. She, uh, needed a distraction." He cleared his throat. "I need to check the perimeter and shoo a couple of those Bantha away. Keep an eye on her for me, will you? And... don't lean on the landing gear," he added. Obi-Wan straightened slowly. The landing gear was solid, but he would do as he was asked, if only out of courtesy. These Naboo really did seem to think that they were in charge of the galaxy. Captain Panaka was already striding off, oblivious to Obi-Wan's annoyance.

Obi-Wan turned his attention to the Queen for a moment, contemplating her. She stood several paces in front of him and just inside the shadow of the ship, where her black feathered gown stood in stark contrast to the white sand stretching ahead of her. A slight wind stirred the feathers and she turned, her profile just visible. Despite the mask of makeup, he saw how relaxed her features were. There it was, again. A glimpse of her outside of the defensive and cold image she projected the rest of the time. She disliked him—that was obvious enough. And he didn't exactly like her either, but a nagging sensation whispered that he hadn't given her a chance. An image from last night flickered across his memories. Presently, Obi-Wan approached her and she jumped in surprise as he stopped beside her.

She sent him an unfriendly glance. "You really need to stop sneaking up on people," she said, her tone decidedly disagreeable. "And you're _stepping_ on my_ dress_," she said, pointedly looking down to where just the edge of his boot had caught the hem of her completely impractical dress.

"My apologies, Your Highness," he replied automatically as he shifted his foot and took a large step away. She huffed softly, her commentary on the sincerity of his apology. Clasping her hands in front of her, she looked away. Obi-Wan turned to re-enter the ship, but before he had taken two steps, he heard the soft sound of rustling fabric. The Queen had turned to look at him again.

"Tell me, Jedi Kenobi," she said, "do you think your Master's plan will work?" It was a carefully worded, strained question. A grudging peace offering, he sensed.

Obi-Wan slowly came back to where he had stood, knowing now was the time for diplomacy. He paused and spoke carefully. "If he thought there were a better option, he would have taken that route."

She gave a very dissatisfied sigh. "Why won't you answer questions directly? You seem to derive pleasure from depriving me of knowledge."

"Hardly, Your Highness. Would you rather I kept the information from you altogether?"

She shot him another sharp look. "I would _rather_ your Master had found a less risky solution."

"Qui-Gon will not let us down," he replied evenly, disliking the direction the conversation had taken.

"We'll see." She said, her tone clipped.

A moment of uneasy silence passed. Obi-Wan set his jaw. This was the problem with young monarchs. They thought everything revolved around them. But, he grudgingly could admit to himself that she did deserve more than he had given. He glanced at her and saw she had turned her attention to the nearby Bantha with what seemed to be exceeding interest. She was watching a young-looking Bantha as it went skipping clumsily over the sand, making funny grunting noises. It seemed to misjudge itself and bumped into a full-grown Bantha's hind leg. The Queen's mouth curved into a surprising, amused smile.

Obi-Wan couldn't help himself—he scoffed, and the Queen's smile faded as she remembered his presence and saw his his reaction. "What?"

He shrugged. "Bantha are one of the galaxy's more inane creatures."

She looked at him with a frown, then turned back away. Had she just rolled her eyes? With his eyebrows raising in surprise, Obi-Wan asked before he had even thought. "What?"

She looked back at him, her expression fiery despite the face paint. "I didn't _ask_ for your opinion." She looked away. "Truly, you act as though this situation tearing my heart apart isbeneathyou," she said, not hedging or censoring her opinion at all. Obi-Wan was taken aback slightly. "This is my_ life_, my _people's_ life. Have you considered? I have never seen a war like this before, nor such heartless murders." Her eyes accused him silently and she sounded haughty. "I've never met someone like you… so sadly jaded despite their youth."

"_Me_ young?" he shot back without even thinking, flabbergasted at the statement. Queen Amidala was, after all, ten years his junior. But as soon as the words had left his mouth, he was apologizing, a bit mortified at the lack of tact he had just shown. "I apologize, Your Highness."

She looked at him, thoroughly arrogant and peevish. "I never knew a Jedi could be so _rude_." At this point her voice had ceased to be the deep monotone that she normally spoke in. She was growing visibly irritated now, focusing all of her anger on him, and her natural voice was soft, girlish. "Aren't you Jedi supposed to be wise and compassionate? And here I am with one that's reckless with the lives of others and the other who's passionless and condescending!"

Obi-Wan forced himself to hold his mouth shut and back the numerous rude remarks that were at the ready, if for no other reason than to stop the argument. The Queen let out a long sigh, her mouth drawn into a thin line. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Obi-Wan's first instinct was to stalk off, but he knew he should probably apologize again or attempt to explain himself, or—_Force_, who knew. Anything he said at this point would probably just make the spoiled little monarch even angrier with him.

By now, Panaka had walked the perimeter and was at the frontmost part of the ship, completely oblivious to the argument that had just transpired. In clear view of both Obi-Wan and Amidala, he was sternly shooing a couple of the Bantha that had gotten too close. He hadn't seemed to notice a smaller one sidling up beside him, curiously sniffing the ground near him. The Bantha seemed to sniff in something he was allergic to, and issued a sneeze that sounded like a clap of thunder, its loudness surprising in consideration of its size. The usually distinguished Captain let out a very undignified yelp as he jumped. The Queen and Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh as Panaka, suddenly very serious and aware of his audience, walked past mumbling something about "inside the ship" and strode up the ramp a bit faster than he usually would.

Obi-Wan glanced at the Queen again, whose face was now softer from the laughter. She kept glancing at him sidelong. A moment more of silence passed, in which she was visibly struggling. Finally, she sighed loudly, relenting. "I'm... sorry, Jedi Kenobi." She drew in a heavy breath, shaking her head and bowing her head. "I should think more before I speak. I've let all the frustration get to me. I didn't mean any of those things." She paused and a strange little smile quirked her mouth. "Well, I didn't mean _most _of those things."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly in spite of himself, surprised at the little glimmer of humor the Queen had just displayed. "I apologize, as well, Milady. I, too, am frustrated at the circumstances."

Vaguely impressed, she looked at him a moment before turning to look out over the desert again, expression unreadable but not sharp and angry like before. Obi-Wan looked at her for a moment, trying to get a better sense of what was really going on with her. The temporary effect of the laughter had already faded, a certain sadness creeping back into her demeanor. Her eyes had shifted to the horizon instead of the animals, a strange and far off longing in her gaze. Obi-Wan was struck by the intense worry she radiated, the unease. Before this moment, he hadn't stopped to try to understand any of the Naboo. But now, he felt the Force urging him to try and understand and empathize with Amidala. While he had met many monarchs in his twenty-five years, most of them blurred together in his memory, none of them stood out over the other. And yet this Queen was different: Something about her just didn't _fit_. Perhaps it was her age. She was so very young—her information file had said fourteen he thought, but he almost couldn't believe that. Her eyes were the one thing they couldn't cover with white paint, and they held scars and sorrow beyond her years.

As if she could sense his thoughts centering in on her, she looked back at him, her eyes flickered over him, gaging him. "I want to ask you an honest question," she finally said, and he knew she was about to ask him something important—her voice had reverted again to her natural voice.

He nodded, waiting, but she hesitated, unsure. Finally, she spoke, and this time she held no contempt in her tone. Only pleading. "_Truly_, Obi-Wan. Can we trust your Master? Does he always resort to such off-the-wall methods? Surely you understand my... misgivings?" She was wringing her hands absently. "I'm just worried for my people—we cannot leave Naboo to suffer alone much longer. If I don't get to Coruscant soon..." she trailed off, her eyes glazed over and seeing into a far off place.

Obi-Wan felt a tug of shame at his behavior, his lack of empathy. Qui-Gon was right. He still had much to learn. Queen Amidala came out of her faraway gaze and her dark eyes searched his, silently begging for reassurance. Deciding to be honest with her, he folded his arms over each other, careful to word everything he was about to divulge delicately. "I know Qui-Gon's plan seems a bit... unexpected." He shrugged slightly, scratching the back of his neck absently. "I was shocked too, but he has never let me down before. He insisted this plan will work."

"You... didn't agree with him?" she asked, catching on to what he implied, a distinct note of incredulity in her voice.

"There is no law that says a Jedi Padawan has to agree with his master. Only obey." He cracked a grin at his little joke, but she seemed to miss it completely. His smile faded as he was reminded of the delicate line he was currently walking with this Queen. "I trust Qui-Gon. With all of our lives." She studied him, still not entirely convinced—but the faintest spark of hope seemed to flare up in her eyes.

She looked away and sighed deeply, the sound heavy with unease. "I hope you're right."

Together, they silently watched the twin suns of Tatooine begin their slow descent into sunset.

* * *

The ship was quiet and the hour late, the suns having disappeared hours ago. The cockpit of the _Pristine_ was dark and quiet, washed in the warm red safelights that came on when the ship was running on backup power. At the cockpit's tech console, Obi-Wan was slowly sitting back into his seat, taken aback by the comlink conversation he had just had. Qui-Gon had sent over a blood sample for testing—Anakin, a mere slave boy—and Obi-Wan had analyzed it, finding that his midi-chlorian count was _higher than Master Yoda's_. Obi-Wan mulled over this new information, staggered by it. Unsettled, somehow. Midi-chlorian counts could show Force sensitivity in individuals and all people and creatures and beings—anything alive in this galaxy or any other was made up of a life force harmoniously linked by midi-chlorians. But Obi-Wan didn't share his Master's excitement about this new development. Instead, after cutting the transmission he immediately meditated on the feeling of unease that cloyed his senses. It seemed to be growing more intense—closer—thicker. Something was wrong, he knew it, and this boy was part of it somehow. And yet, whatever this sense of wrongness was, it remained a phantom and fleeting sensation just outside of his grasp. Possibly, just possibly something he was imagining. And yet, like an echo, the feeling returned again and again, bounced around in his mind, jeering at him.

And then an unexpected thought came to him. The accusation the Queen had slapped him with of being apathetic. It had caught him off guard and now he wondered. He had seen hundreds of planets, peoples, and ways of life. He had helped solve a thousand dilemmas and survived fatal situations almost regularly. Did he exercise enough care? Was his well of compassion still deep and full?

Forcibly pushing aside the thoughts and confusion, he stood and exited the cockpit. Considered sleep, but instead favored staying awake and meditating, perhaps going through lightsaber forms. Silently he moved down the ship's hallway, listening for sounds breaking the quiet. He paused near the Queen's doorway. He heard nothing. Checking out one of the small viewing portals, he scanned the outside desert for anyone. Nothing but sand and darkness. He shook his head and smiled absently, wondering what Master Qui-Gon would have said if he could have heard the insults he and Queen Amidala had so unabashedly lobbed at each other earlier. Quietly, Obi-Wan walked away from the door and back toward the throne room where he would meditate, soothe his apprehension and confusion—draw on the Force for strength and comfort and clear his mind of all the clutter.

On the other side of the doorway he was walking away from, Sabé sat up wide awake, desperately needing a deep and dreamless sleep, but at the point of fatigue where she was too tired to close her eyes. Finally wearing a simple robe and out of the Queen's makeup and wardrobe, it was a small luxury that she barely noticed. She hugged her arms around her knees, resting the side of her face there. Her thoughts and fears jangled around in her head, drowning out any possibility of rest. And so instead, she sat on the floor—she couldn't bring herself to sleep in the luxurious bed while people back home were dying and suffering. Darkness wrapped itself around her, stifling and only amplifying the noise in her head. The hours dragged on like days, and Sabé couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Outside, the two suns rose over a still, windless Tatooine. Blinking back the heaviness of sleep-deprived eyelids, Obi-Wan crossed another wire over and touched it to another, jumping slightly when they sparked. In front of him, the entire tech console was ripped apart. He knew exactly what he was doing. Mostly.

Typing commands into the keypad and bypassing a couple different networks at once, he figured he'd have sliced into the local HoloNet within fifteen more minutes, therefore enabling himself and the ship's crew to watch the pod race. He was still wondering, privately, if his Master's decision would end in their favor. Sometimes, Qui-Gon's reasoning and tactics completely eluded him and tempted him to take matters into his own hands—however, Obi-Wan was not one to go against orders, and since Qui-Gon _was_ Master... well. Still, Qui-Gon's penchant for defying the council, breaking rules, and testing the resolves and patience of those around him was, more often than not, utterly maddening. But, Obi-Wan reasoned (not for the first time), an excellent lesson in patience. That's what he told himself when his Master was being unbearably unreasonable. _Jedi must always cooperate in battle or crisis_, he reminded himself. _Cooperate with each other. _

A soft noise behind him disrupted his current thoughts. Obi-Wan turned to see an increasingly familiar young Queen. Her two silent handmaidens were behind her. Amidala was looking at him as if he had two heads, and then at the display, and back, and her handmaidens were doing the same. He glanced at the HoloNet display, and aghast, saw a dancing alien girl in barely any clothes on the screen that, a moment ago, had displayed a static-ridden cooking special. "I'm—hacking channels, I—didn't... this wasn't..." he fumbled with the console grid and the channel changed to what appeared to be a Twi'Lek soap opera. The Queen said nothing, but turned away quickly—but not quick enough to hide the huge grin on her face. Obi-Wan distinctly heard one of the handmaidens giggle. Flabbergasted with ears and cheeks on fire from embarrassment, he took great care to watch the display carefully as he resumed working with the wires.

A few short hours later, the entire occupants of the ship gathered in around the media console to watch the race. The Queen and her handmaidens stood at a respectable distance behind everyone else, but it was obvious to Obi-Wan that they were just as interested (and worried) about the outcome as everyone else was. He skirted around back the rest of the crew to stand a little closer to the Queen, and she gave him a cursory glance and in a low voice thanked him cordially for his work on getting them the video feed. Finally, the footage had turned from aerial shots of a grand racing arena to ground-level shots of the racers and their pods. Momentarily, the video switched to a two-headed announcer, the twin voices taking turns booming about "the ultimate test of skill and reflex in the galaxy" before turning and announcing grandly "The esteemed Jabba the Hutt!" Obi-Wan watched in vague surprise as the infamous Hutt waved to the crowd. Jabba the Hutt was a notorious figure through out the galaxy—he was one of the shadiest creatures Obi-Wan could think of. With countless connections and funds to back his slimy ways, it made Jabba one of the most dangerous figures out there right now. Another ripple of that vague warning feeling shimmered through Obi-Wan's senses.

Podracing was a strange and dangerous sport, incorporating high speeds with dangerous terrain. Great hulking pods pulled by twin engines zoomed through the unpredictable Tatooine landscape, defying speed limits and safety, flirting with disaster. There seemed to be no rules, only one goal: survive, and if you could survive, win. As they watched the race progress, Obi-Wan couldn't deny that Anakin had reflexes that were superhuman—obviously a manifestation of his amazing Force ability. The race quickly became lethal as several of the racers were too slow to avoid obstacles. One by one, pod after pod crashed, malfunctioned, exploded. The great blazes of flames drew horrified fascination from the crowd and the starship crew alike. And then it was just little Anakin against Sebulba's great hulking racer. Sebulba began ramming into Anakin's maliciously and Obi-Wan felt the Queen tensing beside him—the quarters were close and everyone was so jam-packed into the room that everyone was squished up against each other—he glanced at her and saw how her painted face was frozen in transfixed horror. Again and again Sebulba rammed the side of his pod into Anakin's. But then, after another great and trembling smash, the pods became stuck—it was hard to tell how, the camera could barely keep up. And then somehow Anakin's pod leapt forward, leaving Sebulba's to careen out of control into a crash that demolished his pod. With seconds to spare, Anakin whizzed through the finish line, the winner of the race.

The entire ship's crew burst into wild cheering. Even Captain Panaka was grinning and clapping; the handmaidens were holding their hands to their faces in a mixture of disbelief and amazement. Obi-Wan, grinning despite himself, caught the gaze of the Queen, who was still staring at the screen, shaking her head with her mouth open, completely surprised and staggered by the miraculous win. Then she felt his eyes and smiled at him, sheepishly, almost shyly. He returned the smile without really realizing it as he wondered, who the snowy mask concealed… who this Queen really was behind the persona she displayed.

* * *

The crazy relief lasted for perhaps fifteen minutes after the race concluded. Never before had Sabé felt her heart was so far out of her chest, suspended between such stark consequences. The moment that Anakin's little pod had crossed the finish line, the euphoria had been almost too much to bear. But once she, Rabé, and Eirtaé had retreated to the privacy of the throne room, it seemed crazy to be so high. Very quickly, the girls had found themselves again thinking of Naboo and how their planet waited silently for help, how far they were from delivering that. Anxiously, they waited. When Padmé came back with the hyperdrive, her skin was a shade darker and still warm from the sun. A certain sort of comfort seemed to wash over them immediately at the sight of their Queen. Sabé hung back for awhile as both Eirtaé and Rabé questioned Padmé about Tatooine, Anakin, and the events surrounding the two. Finally, Padmé asked for a private word with Sabé, effectively dismissing Eirtaé and Rabé. Once the door hissed closed behind them, Padmé hugged Sabé fully. "Thank the Gods you're all safe," she said, gripping Sabé lightly on both arms.

"And the same to you, Milady. I'm so glad you're back," Sabé confessed, feeling the words didn't quite do justice to her feelings.

Padmé smiled at her, searching. "Eirtaé and Rabé—are they all right? The crew? Panaka?"

"We're all just restless. And _very_ ready to leave." Sabé took in a deep breath, heavily exhaling as she thought over the past few days. "Ah. There _was_ an incident of sorts." _Well, several._ But only two pressing ones which Padmé needed to know about. "When Jedi Kenobi told us about the podrace and the gambling... I may have gotten a little... animated. Panaka was angry with me, of course. I'm sorry."

Padmé just grinned. "Don't worry, Sabé. I doubt I would have reacted any differently. You didn't hear the things I said to Qui-Gon." She lifted her eyebrows suggestively, and Sabé grinned as Padmé continued. "Honestly, I've found Qui-Gon to be very reckless and disturbingly sure of himself. But, it _did_ seem to work out in the end, so..." she shrugged halfway, a little unsure of what else to say.

But, Sabé, immeasurably reassured to hear this, felt herself smiling as she confessed her very similar feelings for a certain padawan. "I was ready to launch Kenobi into outer space a couple times, myself." Padmé laughed aloud at the comment, clapping her hands over her mouth. Her eyes sparkled with momentary glee, and Sabé suddenly felt years younger and happier in that moment.

Padmé's laughter subsided. "What else? Did anything else happen?"

Sabé grew somber, wishing she wasn't the one who would report this incident to Padmé, unsure of how exactly to tell her. "There was a transmission from home. From Governor Bibble. It... the message... Jedi Kenobi insisted it was a trick to establish a trace. But we kept the recording for you to see. I'll warn you now: It's hard to watch."

Stricken by the news, Padmé nodded slowly, eyes suddenly distant and troubled. "I'll view it later." She sighed deeply. "The galaxy is such a large place with so many problems. It doesn't seem fair that Naboo should have a share in the tragedy. What have we done to deserve it?" She shook her head and visibly made an effort to put the thoughts aside for the moment. "I'm sorry I couldn't contact you while we were away, but it was just too risky. And our fate, it seems, rested in the very small and capable hands of Anakin. Qui-Gon plans to bring him with us to be trained as a Jedi, actually."

Sabé tilted her head to the side, interested. "That's... unusual, isn't it?"

"_Everything_ about Qui-Gon is unusual!" Padmé grinned. "Anakin is..." she searched for the right word. "Exceptional. Very smart. Very clever. Wait until you meet him."

Just then, the door slid open without warning, and Captain Panaka poked his head in. "Your Highness! Qui-Gon's in trouble!" Without hesitation, Padmé disappeared and Eirtaé and Rabé came back in from where they had been waiting outside, confusion on their faces.

"What's going on?" Sabé asked, but before either of the girls could reply, the ship lurched forward and all three of the girls stumbled, nearly falling. "What's happened?" Sabé demanded.

"We seem to be taking off," Rabé said.

"Well _yes_," Sabé retorted, to which Rabé pulled a face. For what seemed like an eternity but was more likely something like sixty seconds, they waited—heard the landing gear and ramp retract into the ship, felt the unmistakable shakiness of atmospheric difference as the ship shot upwards.

"Come on, _Your Highness_, let's find out what's happened," Eirtaé said, anxiously nudging Sabé. "They've forgotten about us."

Not needing any additional suggestion, Sabé led them out into the main hold where Qui-Gon Jinn sat on the floor—no, _sprawled_, as if he had fallen from exhaustion. He bore a light sheen of sweat and was out of breath. Beside him, a little blonde boy was enthusiastically shaking hands with Obi-Wan. "What's happened?" Sabé asked, carefully keeping her voice low and calm despite her complete alarm at the sight.

"Qui-Gon just fought a man with a _laser sword_!" The boy shouted as he jumped to his feet, and then he seemed to take in Sabé fully. "Whoa! Are you a _princess_? You're dressed so fancy..."

"Queen Amidala, allow me to introduce Anakin Skywalker," Qui-Gon said.

_Ah._ Sabé held out her hand to Anakin to shake his hand. "Anakin, I've heard very much about you. We thank you for your service. We couldn't have escaped without you, it seems."

Even as she was doling out the expected pleasantries in the Queen's accented monotone, she was wondering if she had heard right—a man with a lightsaber had attacked Qui-Gon and had been a challenging opponent, had rendered him into this sweaty, panting mess sprawled on the floor? What kind of warrior could so challenge a Jedi Knight? She knew the answer... but... that wasn't possible, was it? Shocked by where her thoughts were taking her, she looked at Obi-Wan, whose troubled expression did nothing to answer her questions. Just then Padmé and Panaka came out of the lift. As Padmé dutifully came to stand beside Sabé, Panaka hung back, frowning at nothing in particular. Anakin seemed starstruck, looking from Padmé to Sabé in awe. He was small, dirty, and enthusiastic, dressed in clothing that spoke volumes of his meager lifestyle. She turned just slightly to Padmé. "Padmé, why don't you get Anakin settled for the journey to Coruscant. Eirtaé, Rabé—" she motioned for them to follow as well.

"Yes, your highness," Padmé replied softly, and she nodded her head at Anakin as Eirtaé and Rabé moved away from Sabé's side. The four of them disappeared into the forward hold together. Sabé turned her attention to Qui-Gon who was slowly standing up. She could help but note how much like an old man he looked at the moment.

"What happened? Who attacked you? Did you_ steal _that hyperdrive?" Panaka demanded. Obi-Wan looked at Sabé with raised eyebrows and she sent him a subtle, helpless shrug.

Qui-Gon looked at the captain with the most vague amusement, folding his arms deliberately. "Captain Panaka, if you are insinuating that sentient who attacked me was a thug sent to retrieve stolen goods—you are indeed far from the mark. My feelings tell me he was sent after Queen Amidala." He looked at Sabé, all signs of amusement gone and Sabé felt her heart sinking into a strange fear.

"Me? I don't understand. How could the Federation have traced us?"

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a cryptic look and Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't know, Your Highness. He was a good fighter and was obviously a skilled swordsman. I find his appearance highly disturbing."

Similarly taken aback, Captain Panaka struggled for a moment. "I-I apologize, Master Jinn. I will double my protective measures for the Queen."

"That would be wise," Qui-Gon answered, and Sabé didn't miss the look that passed between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

"Why would the Federation send a single assassin when they knew there are two Jedi Knights with me?" Sabé demanded. "And Anakin said he used a lightsaber—the weapon of a Jedi Knight."

Qui-Gon didn't look like he liked where the question was headed and held up a subtle hand to Obi-Wan, who stood beside his master. "Your Highness, I do not wish to burden you with a variety of theories. I know only as much as you do and will speak with the Jedi Council as soon as we arrive on Coruscant. Until then, I suggest you prepare yourself to meet with the Chancellor."

"What do you think I've been doing here while we waited for your return—rearranging my closet?" Sabé retorted, and Captain Panaka cleared his throat loudly. Sabé glanced at him unhappily. Qui-Gon looked as though she'd made a comment on the weather, while Obi-Wan was attempting to hide a smile. Sabé gracefully clasped her hands, forcing a cordial smile onto her face. "Master Qui-Gon, if you need anything let my people know. Thank you for your continued protection." She bowed her head slightly and retreated to the royal chamber. Panaka, a sternly inscrutable look on his face, followed her.

Obi-Wan watched the Queen and Captain retreating before he turned his attention to Qui-Gon, who was looking tired and worn in a way that unsettled him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, to which his master absently nodded. "Do you think it could have been a..." his voice lowered several notches, "_Sith_?"

"Yes." The answer came with no pretense or buffer, only a soft certainty that shocked Obi-Wan.

"_Yes_?" He echoed dumbly.

Finally looking at him, Qui-Gon just nodded. "Yes."

Obi-Wan watched his master sink down onto one of the benches and close his eyes in meditation, clearly done talking. But all Obi-Wan could think was how Qui-Gon suddenly seemed much smaller and more vulnerable than he ever remembered him being. At a loss, Obi-Wan could do nothing but settle in for the long journey to Coruscant, shock holding him in a closed fist.

_How did neither of them foresee this?_

* * *

**Nine Hours Later**

**Coruscant City**

The landing party was assembling in the _Pristine's_ main hold for the landing with the Jedi at the very front. Right behind Obi-Wan, Sabé found herself staring into his shoulder as she turned the thought over in her head. She had managed to get some information by sending Rabé and Eirtaé to ask the pilots aboard what they had seen. No one had seen much, but the following was clear: Qui-Gon had been attacked by someone with a lightsaber. Qui-Gon had struggled to match the warrior's skill with the lightsaber. But no one, _no one_ could survive in a lightsaber battle against a Jedi without an insanely large and unlikely amount of dumb luck or darker methods. The word kept coming back to her. Sith. But then each time, she brushed it away, almost refusing to consider it. There was no chance of that being the case. Sith had ruled the galaxy a thousand years ago but they were supposed to be extinct. Her eyes flickered up to the back of Obi-Wan's head, wondering and also trying _not_ to wonder. It was too much to think about all at once.

She heard the repulsors firing, steadying the landing, and then the metal sound of the landing gear stretching out. _Hurry, hurry._ She was tortured by the wait and the silence. Beside and behind her, Padmé, Rabé, Eirtaé all silently waited. She might have been imagining it, but she could nearly feel their tension, too, their readiness to finally reach their destination. A gentle bump told her they had set down, and then the ramp began to lower. Full of nervous tension and ready to be where they were going, Sabé was about to start clicking her tongue in her mouth—a bad habit she had always had. She made herself stop before she could start. She glanced at the back of Obi-Wan's head again, studying the braid and the ponytail. What an odd haircut haircut he had.

"Come, Obi-Wan, Anakin. The Chancellor awaits." Qui-Gon led the way down the ramp way, Anakin and Obi-Wan just behind him. Sabé could see the Chancellor up ahead waiting as she followed slowly, her handmaidens behind her. She used to dream of meeting people like this. People of power and prestige. But today, when the fate of her planet hung in the balance, she no longer cared. In fact, she was angry at the way the crisis back on Naboo had been handled. But Padmé, who knew this (and was equally upset) had coached her on the way back to speak very neutrally with the Supreme Chancellor—to cover her anger with diplomacy. Sabé stepped from the end of the ramp way to the landing platform. It hovered thousands of meters above the ground far below, and all around ships buzzed by. The entire planet was covered in city skyline, made up of countless levels of infrastructure. But she didn't give it a second glance. She had come to the planet twice before while training and had no particular fascination with the faceless, metal planet. It all looked the same to her. It seemed lifeless in comparison to home.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon with Anakin as well bowed in greeting when they reached the Chancellor. Right behind them, walking a slow and floating pace, Sabé was surprised when Obi-Wan straightened and stepped aside to make room for her to walk past—and looked at her directly, a strange expression on his face. Looking past him, she focused on the Chancellor. But she would wonder why he had looked at her like that for a long time to come.

Ahead of Obi-Wan, Queen Amidala walked at a slow pace as she spoke with Senator Palpatine, whose smiling face was not a new sight to Obi-Wan. As the Queen had disembarked, Obi-Wan had been struck by the realization she and her people were departing the protection of himself and his master. A slight tremor of genuine worry had run through him as he had turned and made way for her. If there truly was a Sith lord after her, it would be best for the Jedi to extend their protection to her. What chance could the ruler of a peaceful planet hold against such a dark possibility? Sith had ruled the galaxy a thousand years prior, but history had forgotten them, almost unnaturally. Even some Jedi had forgotten about them—written them off as an over exaggeration of history, an era long gone, a threat that they would never be faced with again. And yet his master had probably just faced one. Obi-Wan had never downplayed the importance or power of the Sith. He himself had tasted the dark side's power before. But the question remained. Why would a Sith lord be after Queen Amidala?

Senator Palpatine, a kindly middle-aged man with an air of aristocracy was speaking cordially with Amidala, a certain sort of ease to his demeanor that almost seemed out of place. He motioned to the man standing beside him. "I'm anxious to hear your report on the situation. May I present Supreme Chancellor Valorum."

Valorum stepped forward just slightly. "Welcome, your Highness. It's an honor to finally meet you in person."

"Thank you Supreme Chancellor," Amidala replied. Obi-Wan sensed a hostility there, even though her tone gave nothing away.

They began walking slowly toward the airlift as Valorum continued. "I must relay to you how distressed everyone is over the current situation. I've called for a special session of the senate to hear your position." The Chancellor's words were eloquent but the sincerity was missing and Queen Amidala stopped and turned, looking him directly in the eye.

"Thank you for your _concern_, Chancellor," she said, and Obi-Wan recognized the sarcasm easily. He hid a smile as she walked away with Palpatine, leaving the Chancellor in stung surprise. If he wasn't mistaken, he was growing to rather like the Queen of Naboo—it seemed she trusted politicians just as much as he did.

* * *

**One Hour Later**

**Republica 500**

Soft silk, crushed velvet, hand dip-dyed lace—Sabé carefully sorted through the Queen's wardrobe containers, relieved to be herself and let Padmé be Queen. Just being without the makeup and in a comparatively simple handmaiden's robe instead of the back-breaking heaviness of the Queen's gown was an unexpected bliss. Alone with the silence of the guest quarters in the luxurious Republica 500 building, the distraction to be doing something relatively mundane was more than welcome. The guest quarters were lavishly decorated with various artifacts; rich reds and browns made the room somewhat cozy and welcoming. The view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows was nothing short of stunning. And still Sabé could only think of the greenest of grass and the thundering sound of waterfalls...

Meanwhile, Padmé had once again donned the splendor of her royal wardrobe and was speaking with Senator Palpatine in his quarters a few floors above with Rabé and Eirtaé along. Sabé could only guess the topic of the conversation was the special session of senate that Valorum had mentioned. _My planet is being occupied illegally, we have no idea the situation on the ground... and our only hope is the Senate. _The thought made her unconsciously than likely the senate would not move any quicker now than it did before, leaving Naboo as a casualty in the never-ending bureaucratic psychobabble. Sabé was no politician and never could be, but if she could make a difference serving those who would uphold justice, then that was where she wanted to be. In the short time Sabé had known Padmé, she had learned that her queen was shrewd and intelligent. Padmé would never admit it, but Sabé had observed that she relied heavily on advice from others, afraid of her own judgement. Sabé hoped that Palpatine would counsel her well. Even though her opinion on politicians was mostly the same—they were all self-interested and two faced—she found that there was a likable draw to Palpatine.

Pausing for a moment, Sabé's gaze was drawn to the large window across the room, where the Coruscant traffic buzzed by, thousands of airships against the jagged city skyline. How strange that such normality could exist here while such travesty occurred on her home planet. She could see the Jedi Temple in the distance, a distinct five-spire silhouette in the warm glow of Coruscant afternoon light. A sense of peace settled over her when she looked at it. She like many others had grown up hearing conflicting stories about the Jedi. Some said they were emotionless, lofty and arrogant. Others said they were compassionate, selfless, wise beyond measure. She was of a new, personal opinion that they were surprisingly human—flawed by their inherent nature, perhaps a little stuck up because of their powers and position, but also committed and patient. They were not above petty disagreements, as she had found out in her own recent experience. She briefly reflected on a young man with piercing blue eyes and found herself smiling softly. She couldn't claim to understand him much at all, and now she would never see him again. At that thought, she felt a brief sadness flutter down inside her heart.

She rolled her eyes at herself and carefully folded the last of Padmé's airy shifts into the drawer in the luggage case. She drew out a black underdress to lay out for the Queen's next outfit change and smoothed out the shimmersilk fabric with her fingers, vaguely troubled. It was hard to tell if she'd be playing Queen again any time soon. It wasn't so much the danger to herself that bothered her, but the responsibility of making decisions and commands. Again, she felt stuck and restless. She sat on the couch, intending to rest just a moment, and then she slumped against the armrest, just to rest her eyes. It seemed like only a few hazy seconds passed before she was being shaken by Rabé and being told to get up.

Disoriented, Sabé blinked rapidly as she sat, taking in the sight of her fellow handmaidens and Padmé, who was changing with Eirtaé's help into her elaborate red and gold robed gown. With details of orange and gold, the robe was one of Padmé's most striking and imposing. How much time had passed? Sabé rose, blinking back fatigue and shaking her head in an attempt to jolt herself awake. "What's happening? How long have I been asleep?"

"I don't know, come help," Eirtaé replied, all business and clearly unimpressed at Sabé's current state. Awake as she could be now, Sabé began helping Eirtaé silently as Rabé was taking out the massive headdress that matched the Queen's gown. Padmé half-watched them. "Palpatine seems to think the Supreme Chancellor's concerns, however genuine, will do us no good." Eirtaé was carefully pulling apart the golden strands that laid like a necklace across the front of the gown.

Padmé's eyes focused somewhere far away. "I have asked Senator Palpatine's advice and he seems to think an election of a new Chancellor is needed."

Sabé paused in surprise. "But despite his mistakes, Valorum has been one of our most loyal supporters."

Padmé's face, still painted, was nevertheless easy to read. Uneasy. "If I don't do something quickly, Naboo will be a slave to the occupation for a much longer time." She looked at her handmaidens long and hard, her face so sad. Even though she was festooned in regality, she seemed so young and afraid in that moment. But her voice remained strong. "I will _not_ accept Federation control."

Sabé felt conviction well up inside of her. She knew her place and knew she was not an advisor, but she also couldn't stand by and say nothing when the words were so ready to be spoken. "Padmé, can I talk honestly with you?"

Interested, Padmé turned her gaze to her. "Of course, Sabé."

"Let's return to Naboo. We can leave this political mess and fight the way we know how instead of stirring up trouble in the senate."

Padmé seemed disheartened and shook her head. "Sabé, you know I'm not a fighter. I believe in peace."

"But in order to maintain peace we _must_ fight! You _are_ a fighter. You have to be. Your people _need_ you." Sabé realized that both Rabé and Eirtaé were looking at her strangely and Padmé was still shaking her head. Desperate, Sabé grasped Padmé's arm lightly. "Your Highness, with all due respect, the longer we linger here the more people will suffer and die without your leadership." Padmé said nothing, only looked somewhere vaguely to Sabé's right. "Padmé—"

"_Enough_, Sabé," Padmé said, and her use of the Queen's voice startled all of the girls into stillness. "Put this away, please." She handed Sabé a black cloak, clearly done with speaking as friends. "I will face the senate and hope for the best. Perhaps it will not come to a vote of no confidence. Perhaps they will listen to my case."

Sabé took the cloak slowly, struggling against the urge to say more. And finally, she turned silently and went to the Queen's massive wardrobe containers, calmly moving hangars aside to make room for the black cloak in her hands. But inside she felt as scattered as loose leaves on a blustery day.

* * *

Across the city and in the upper levels of the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon walked in stride together out onto a balcony washed in the orange glow of sunset. "The boy will not pass the Council's tests, Master, and you know it—he is far too old," Obi-Wan said, continuing a conversation that had begun the moment they had left Anakin to his testing with the Council.

Qui-Gon didn't flinch, only smiled mysteriously, certain of himself. "Anakin _will_ become a Jedi, I promise you."

Obi-Wan glanced sidelong at his master, dreading where this was going. "Do not defy the Council, Master... not again."

"I will do what I must, Obi-Wan."

The comment, typical of Qui-Gon, inspired a response typical of Obi-Wan. Complete and utter frustration. He tried again. "Master, you could be _sitting on the Council_ by now if you would just follow the code. They will not go along with you this time."

Calm as a spring day, Qui-Gon laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You still have much to learn, my young apprentice." Obi-Wan said nothing, only studied the setting sun, feelings of frustration fighting against his resolve to say nothing else. Qui-Gon seemed to think himself better than the council, or more wise. Beside him, Qui-Gon chuckled. "Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Do not be offended by this."

"I'm not _offended_, Master," Obi-Wan protested.

"But you are," was Qui-Gon's quiet reply. Obi-Wan huffed and looked away. Qui-Gon folded his arms, never once losing his pleasant tone of voice. "When I first saw you, I saw everything at once. Your bravery, your resourcefulness, strength... stubbornness." Qui-Gon's voice had a smile in it. "I know you think of me as a rogue, Obi-Wan. I know you disapprove of my methods. I fear I've somehow neglected to teach you open mindedness."

Obi-Wan said nothing, instead studied the ribbons of traffic. He wanted to protest, wanted to insist that he _was_ open minded, but he already knew what that would get him—another reprimand. As usual, Qui-Gon was sure of something, had made up his mind. And when Qui-Gon made up his mind, he never looked back.

* * *

Sabé leaned into the wall next to the window, watching the sun sink slowly, leaving the upper part of the Coruscant skies a soft gray dotted with dim stars. It had been a little over an hour since Padmé and escort had gone to attend the special session of the senate, and she expected to hear from them at any moment. Instead of turning on the HoloNet to watch media coverage of the event, she had opted to take a long shower. She felt cagey here all alone, forbidden to leave the room. Some of the guards weren't even aware of the decoy gambit. Just then her comlink chimed, and a familiar voice crackled through. "Panaka here. We're on our way back."

"Has it gone well?"

There was a pause. "Negative. They wanted to send a commission to confirm our situation back home. The Queen called for a vote of no confidence in the Chancellor."

Even though she felt surprise radiate through her, she kept her words neutral—never knew when someone would be listening in. "Copy that. What now?"

"Hang tight. The Queen will be back soon."

"Affirmative. Hanging tight. Over." The words themselves were playful, but Sabé felt a sense of foreboding shimmer through her. Uncertainty. There was just something wrong, like they were on a precipice and about to fall into the unknown.

* * *

**Two Standard Hours Later**

In step behind Queen Amidala and dressed in the flame gown of a handmaiden, Sabé followed the brisk stride as they headed back to the _Pristine_. While she was pleasantly surprised about the decision to return to Naboo, she was also vaguely worried because Padmé would not divulge her reasoning or plan of action to anyone. As they approached the waiting starship, they were met by Qui-Gon and, oddly enough, little Anakin who was still dressed in the same clothes. Obi-Wan was not there, and Sabé wondered briefly if he had stayed behind. Had Qui-Gon taken Anakin as his new padawan? Strange. As they boarded the ship, she again returned to private theories on the reason for their return to Naboo. She hoped they would stand and fight for what was theirs, but there was little telling what Padmé's plans were and she still felt stung by Padmé's earlier rebuke. Sometimes she forgot her place. As the Queen's entourage settled into the throne room, Padmé realized Jar Jar was missing, and sent Sabé to fetch the Gungan for a conference.

It was darker than Sabé remembered in the droid hold and it seemed very empty as most of the crew was gathered above. Tired to her core, she almost felt as if she might fall asleep if she were to sit down. The ship gave a small jolt as it entered hyperspace, and a small noise behind her caused her to jump and whirl. "Jar Jar?"

"Hardly," came a familiar, accented voice. Out of the shadows came one very unhappy looking Padawan. With his arms folded into his robe, he was the picture of surly, and Sabé's minds eye worked faster than she thought possible, remembering Qui-Gon counseling Anakin on the platform, Obi-Wan's absence... and immediately she made a guess to why Obi-Wan had ducked away, why his voice bore a note of hurt. He was the picture of hurt and jealousy. And then, Sabé remembered herself and quickly bowed her head to the exact angle she knew would cast a shadow across the top portion of her face. "Oh, excuse me," she said, carefully keeping her hooded head low and voice neutral—in the few seconds she had been caught unawares, she feared she had seen surprised recognition in his eyes. "But have you seen Jar Jar?"

"He's right _there_," Obi-Wan said flatly, and Sabé followed his eye line to the opposite corner, where she clearly saw Jar Jar curled up underneath a spare blanket, eyes shut in sleep and mouth half open, tongue twitching oddly. Sabé, a woman who believed herself to possess superior observation skills, immediately felt a shock of embarrassment run through her. _Really, how _does _one neglect to notice a giant frogman shaped lump_?

"Oh, I... I didn't see him there," she said stupidly. Obi-Wan seemed amused by the miss, smiling coyly as he walked to her side in slow strides.

"Funny, isn't it, how the most obvious of things most often escape the clutches of our perception."

The comment was laced with a certain suggestive smugness that made Sabé nervous. "What is this, philosophy class?" she retorted, already halfway to Jar Jar. She shook the Gungan firmly by the shoulders and he moaned protests as he woke, a bit cross-eyed as he recoiled from the rude awakening.

"Mesa having the nicey-est dream, oh muy muy, mesa—" he was cut short when Sabé raised a single finger.

"Maybe later, Jar Jar. Right now you're needed above."

"How wude," Jar Jar commented, surprise across his froggy features, but nevertheless he complied, standing clumsily and yawning dramatically, taking his time before loping across the room with Sabé following closely behind.

She turned just slightly in the Padawan's direction. "You should come too, Jedi Kenobi."

"In a moment," he replied dryly. "When _philosophy class_ is concluded."

Sabé huffed at the remark and followed Jar Jar into the lift, considering the exact level of her stupidity for thinking she could fool a Jedi with just the shadows of her hood. He wasn't an idiot—he probably recognized her voice or face or the familiar ease of which she shot an angry retort at him. But there was always the slight chance that she had misread his words and smug smile, that his mind was elsewhere, that all of her accidental idiotic slips had _somehow _missed his radar. That he mistook her for Padmé, or even maybe, _possibly_, that to him all women looked alike. _Oh stars, who am I kidding._

Obi-Wan watched the doors close, handmaiden with her head bowed so that only her mouth was distinct. Beside her, the Gungan was already jabbering on again excitedly about... well, he couldn't really tell. Momentarily distracted from his own thoughts and feelings, Obi-Wan pondered.

* * *

**Ten Standard Hours Later**

Sabé held her arms away from her body as Eirtaé and Rabé carefully fastened the surcoat over her. The dress was shorter than others, allowing for maximum movement. Battle. They would arrive on Naboo in an hour's time. Against her breastbone, the Queen's amulet was heavy and cool, a solid and reassuring weight. "Hold _still_." Rabé insisted as she yanked Sabé by the hair, fastening the headpiece on. Sabé tried, wincing at the multiple and painful pulls on her scalp.

Across the room, Eirtaé was carefully pulling and knotting Padmé's hair into a double chignon to match hers. It was strange to be going out into the open without their usual hoods. Without the hoods, it was easy to tell the girls apart—Rabé's olive skin and exotic features, Eirtaé's pale blonde hair and angular face, Padmé's soft eyes and regal posture. But they would need to be able to move, to see. To fight. Sabé had little idea of what Padmé was planning, only to seek the help from the Gungans in a bid to recapture Naboo from the Trade Federation. Privately, Sabé was worried. The race of the Gungans had been opposed to Naboo's human occupants all throughout history, and any peace between the two races was strained at best. Many Naboo looked down on the Gungans and treated them as inferiors while the Gungans considered Naboo to be pretentious thieves... this was a huge leap of faith. Jar Jar seemed to be an exceptionally unbiased Gungan, but as for the hundreds of others, there was little telling. Sabé didn't prefer optimism in this particular situation.

Rabé stood back, admiring her handiwork. "Looks good," she commented. Sabé just sighed as she nodded her head back and forth, testing the weight of the headdress. It was even heavier than the feathered headdress. Rabé was now looking at Sabé with a very earnest expression, prompting a "what?" from Sabé.

"You're... you're so brave, Sabé," she said, and squeezed Sabé's hands in hers. Her eyes faltered away from Sabé's, filled with emotion and she turned away, going to Eirtaé's side. Sabé stood still, stung by the words—she felt anything but. Going to the viewport she looked out and saw Jar Jar's unmistakable figure beside Obi-Wan a few feet away. The Gungan was grasping the Jedi Padawan in an awkward, enthusiastic hug and then turning, loping away toward the waters that the city of Otah Gunga laid beneath.

* * *

Obi-Wan watched Jar Jar make his way loudly through the underbrush and toward the dark waters of the lake beyond. Distantly, haunting calls echoed back and forth between birds deep in the forest. Besides that, everything was still and quiet. Almost eerie. Jar Jar dove into the lake with a loud splash that was followed by more silence.

Obi-Wan was perplexed by the Queen's idea to use the Gungan's army. Not only was he doubtful of the plan, but he was now wondering who the real Queen was. He had known immediately—the Queen sitting on the throne in front of him was a different one than the one he had spent several days with. And he was almost certain that the other Queen was the handmaiden who had gone looking for Jar Jar in the hold. Why two Queens?

The Force assured him that a solution and clear answer would present itself soon in his questions there. But a deeply unsettled feeling urged him to make peace with Qui-Gon over their disagreement back on Coruscant. Obi-Wan knew he needed to accept their differences.

A bit off from the ship and in the other direction, Qui-Gon stood with his back to everyone, his hands on his hips. Obi-Wan contemplated his Master, who had been withdrawn and short ever since they had fled Tatooine.

Stubborn as he was, Obi-Wan couldn't let the tension remain any longer. He began to approach his master, and with each step he took, he felt smaller. Everything he had ever done wrong to disappoint his master or himself seemed to flash across his memory.

"Jar Jar is on his way to the Gungan city, Master."

Qui-Gon's gaze remained fixed on some far off place, deep in thought. "Good," he replied automatically.

Obi-Wan hesitated. "Do you think the Queen's idea will work?"

Qui-Gon glanced at him. "The Gungans will not easily be swayed, and we cannot use our power to help her."

Obi-Wan considered Qui-Gon's answer, which wasn't much of an answer at all. And not knowing how else to bridge the gap or begin the process, Obi-Wan swallowed his pride. "I'm...I'm sorry for my behavior, Master. It is not my place to disagree with you about the boy. And I _am_ grateful you think I am ready for the trials."

Qui-Gon finally seemed to come out of his thoughts. He turned to Obi-Wan and looked at him in a way that seemed to look past everything and see his very heart. Then a pleasant smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes came across his face, and he grasped Obi-Wan's shoulder with strong reassurance. "You have been a good apprentice. You are much wiser than I am, Obi-Wan. I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight."

The words were like sun coming out to chase away the rain, and humbled, Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you Master."

Qui-Gon again looked at him in that all-knowing way he had, folding his arms in thoughtfulness. "You're troubled."

Obi-Wan chuckled wryly, ducking the piercing gaze of his master. He was either very optimistic or foolish to think he could hide such things from his master.

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a soft smile. "Still your anxieties, Obi-Wan. Answers will come forth soon."

At that moment, the commotion of the Queen and her attendants coming out of the starship caught both of their attention. The group wore clothing that clearly showed their faces and hair—even the Queen herself looked almost normal, now wearing boots and a skirted jumpsuit as well as a strange headdress and the same face paint. All of the women had silver blasters strapped to their sides and they all looked too young for the somber expressions they wore.

"I am not sure this is the best plan," Qui-Gon said. The Jedi exchanged a terse glance. They were both thinking the same thing—if this came to battle, there would be no way for them to prevent the bloodshed that would follow.

* * *

The swamps of Naboo were humid and warm, but not unpleasantly so. In step behind the Queen and her handmaidens, Obi-Wan stole another glance at Queen One. One seemed nervous—her fingers worked the corner of her sleeve, she held herself stiffly. He noticed the slight puckering in her cheek when she bit the inside of her cheek in thought. The momentary glaze that came over her eyes when she thought no one was looking.

Jar Jar led the party further and further into the forest, where the trees became thick and the sunlight dim, where the footing underneath grew damp and the calls of birds and creatures louder and more haunting. The Force grew dense with the life here. Finally, Obi-Wan saw a clearing ahead scattered with ancient and toppled ruins. There, the Gungans waited. In just a few moments, Padmé would step forward and reveal the truth in a bid to persuade Boss Nass of her intentions. Qui-Gon would look at Obi-Wan in slight surprise. And Obi-Wan, who prided himself on his perception and foresight, wouldn't really bother to hide his smug smile.

* * *

On the outskirts of the swamplands where the thick tangle of trees gave way to lush green plains under a calm blue sky, preparations for a desperate assault were hastily being made. Sabé watched Panaka and Padmé along with Boss Nass and the two Jedi conferring intensely. Anakin, semi-interested, leaned on the landspeeder they were gathered around. Sabé momentarily wished that she had been able to keep the decoy ruse going—then she would have been at the speeder as well. She didn't consider herself superior to Padmé in any way except defense and tactics. After all, it had been her life for the past four years. Wishing she could hear what they were saying and planning (and perhaps offer tactical advice), Sabé couldn't help but itch with nervous anticipation and didn't bother being discreet as she plainly stared at the technical readout of the palace that the group was assessing. Padmé seemed to be indicating the waterfall passage with her pointer, to which Sabé pursed her lips thoughtfully. That might work, but there was little telling what they would find_ inside_ the city.

Sabé reasoned that the citizens would have been removed and droids would have taken over the streets and homes therein. It made her stomach turn to think about her home—so full of life and peace and gentle beauty turned into a military base of operations. Sabé felt the oddest mixture of righteous anger and sheer terror as she considered how there weren't enough people here to fight a long battle. They would have to take the droids army by surprise for any upper hand at all. She glanced around at the scattering of Naboo who were preparing to go and fight. There were maybe fifty of them all together; a mere handful of security force personnel and pilots who had, for the most part, never been in a fight before. Well, neither had she, technically. Not like this. She had been in a few standoffs with thieves and pirates—in a few speeder chases, a few minor shoot outs, a handful of offensive strikes—but this was different. The droids were a faceless, emotionless army. And the fact that they weren't sentient made them all the more frightening. They didn't know what mercy was. They just killed.

But Sabé was ready. Either way. She accepted her fear and anxiety as necessary, feelings that would keep her sharp and alert. The meeting at the landspeeder seemed to be breaking up and Sabé saw three familiar tall figures coming to talk with Captain Panaka. The mere sight of them sent a thrill of relief through her, and Sabé went to join them at the speeder, forgetting about the makeup and costume she wore. Will Chamberlyn, tall, dark-haired and serious; Gavyn Sykes, shorter and with the permanent look of mischief about him; and Gregar. Just Gregar. They were three of her closest friends from her years in the royal forces. At her approach, they all looked up and bowed, except Gregar, whose mouth was opened slightly in surprise. "_Sabé_? Is that you?"

"In the flesh," she replied, laughing, he swept her up into an unexpected and enthusiastic hug.

Gavyn was grinning and shaking his head. "So you're Queen now, huh Lightspeed? Captain Panaka, I think that's a _little_ toomuch of a promotion."

Will, forever the consummate soldier, was focused on the task at hand. "What's the plan, Captain?"

Captain Panaka didn't reply—he was looking between his young recruits, his face surprisingly tender. Sabé gave him a gentle nudge and he seemed to remember himself. He cleared his throat. "The plan is simple. The Gungans will draw the majority of the droid forces into the lower plains. Chamberlyn has captured and re-outfitted a Trade Federation Multi-Troop Transport. We'll use this to approach Theed at the lower levels and access the waterfall levels. Once we're up, we'll split into two groups and take the remaining droids by surprise and get our pilots into the hangar. From there, we'll move to recapture the palace. Padmé and I will capture the viceroy. Sabé, I'm putting you in charge of the second movement at that point."

Sabé's heart skipped a beat, from some bizarre mixture of fear and excitement. "Captain, are you sure?"

"Very," he replied.

She nodded briskly. "I won't let you down."

Surprising her, he smiled at her. "I know you won't. I'm going to round up our pilots and brief them. Gavyn and Will, come with me." The men strode off leaving Sabé and Gregar alone. Sabé looked at the man who she counted as one of her best friends, leveling him with one of her more appraising stares. He was incredibly tall and handsome, but when she looked at him she saw his quiet, simple heart. She remembered all the fights they'd had and all the trouble they'd gotten into. They always had each other's back, always watched out for each other. And Sabé knew she could count on a straight answer from him.

She moved a little closer, kept her voice low. "How bad is it? What do you know?"

Gregar shook his head, obviously tired and worn down from the past few days. "Honestly... it's bad. We don't have a way of knowing for sure, but it looks like they killed a couple hundred of us when there was an uprising two days ago. And we know a lot were killed in the initial invasion." Each sentence he said seemed heavier than the last. "Theed is impossible to get into. We've managed to piece together information from other major cities in Naboo and it looks like there are tens of thousands of droids planet wide."

Sabé shook her head in disbelief, staggered. Noticing, Gregar gently patted her back. "Hey. It's all right."

Sabé said nothing, still trying to process reality. Gregar was looking at her carefully. "So this whole decoy thing... my uncle's idea?" She nodded absently and he looked distinctly reproachful. "It's very dangerous. You'll be the target of every single droid out there."

She chuckled derisively at the statement. "You don't have to _remind_ me, Gregs."

He grinned at the use of his old nickname. "Sorry, Shortstack." Sabé gave him _the look_. How many times had she told him not to call her that... yet he never stopped. His smile faded. "But seriously. Don't worry. I've got your back. Like always." His good humor faded into a more serious expression as he touched her arm gently, struggling. "Sabé, as long as I've known you, I—" he stopped, stepped back, eyes somewhere behind Sabé. Turning to look where he was looking, Sabé saw Padmé approaching.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, please excuse us," Padmé said, smiling cordially at Gregar. Sabé looked at him, perplexed at his strained expression, but chalking it up to pre-battle nerves. She gave him a quick smile before falling into step with Padmé. She didn't look back, but if she had, she'd have seen Gregar Typho watching them go, an unmistakably torn expression on his face.

Silently, handmaiden and Queen walked out of earshot of any eavesdroppers along the tree line. Padmé held her hands clasped behind her, and Sabé suddenly felt awkward, needing to fill the silence. So she did. "Milady, I apologize for speaking out of turn earlier. It wasn't my place to tell you what to do or—"

Padmé stopped, looking at Sabé in complete surprise, then smiling. "_Sabé_, I _need_ more people like you to give me advice like that. You were right. Gods, I'm so slow sometimes. You must have thought I was angry with you this whole time." She laughed, an action that was tainted by distraction. "I'm still learning how to handle all the pressure and decision making. How could I have ever prepared for this?" She gestured vaguely and looked back at Sabé, the tenseness easing into a smile. "You know, when Panaka informed me his choice for Primary Handmaiden was part of the security forces, I'll admit... I had some doubts."

Surprised at the turn of conversation, Sabé waited a moment, worded her question carefully. "Can I ask why, milady?"

"Everyone I ever knew to work in security forces was either mindless or looking for a fight," Padmé said, accurately describing a majority of the security forces, but not them all. "It seems I was generalizing. Panaka was right about you. And there are so many other good people in the forces." She grew somber, sighed and looked over the beautiful landscape before them. Sabé followed her gaze. Naboo was truly beautiful, its fertile beauty striking to the core. Right now, far out of the city and without a droid in sight, the invasion almost seemed imaginary. The crisp scents of leaves and earthy ozone filled her senses.

"Who knows where our planet will be after this conflict. I still can't believe it's come to this. I didn't want it to come to war." Padmé looked back at Sabé, her young features strained. Sabé had always known Padmé was brave, but now she appreciated it more than she ever had. Sometimes Sabé forgot that she was the older one. Sometimes Padmé's wisdom and poise was such that it seemed to transcend her physical age. But right now, Sabé remembered that her Queen was only fourteen. And probably very frightened underneath all of her eloquent words and careful steadiness.

Suddenly they weren't Queen and Handmaiden, but friend and friend. Sabé placed a comforting hand on Padmé's shoulder. "Padmé. Don't blame yourself for this. None of us could have foreseen this." Padmé shook her head, guilt-ridden. Sabé folded her arms, settling back and chewed the side of her mouth absently. "But, you should know... Captain Panaka and I _did_ hide several blasters in the throne's arm compartment." She sheepishly looked at Padmé, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise. "I'm sorry, Milady. It was my idea and we didn't want to deceive you, only prepare you."

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "Sabé Nebira—you never cease to surprise me. A month ago I would probably have chastised you. But today, I have to be grateful for the precaution."

Sabé smiled, chagrinned. "Sad that they're needed, isn't it?" She hadn't meant to sound as somber as she did. A tense silence spanned between the girls. They both knew the Queen was the target. And Sabé, unmistakably regal in the outfit and makeup, would be in more danger than the rest of them. _My senses tell me they will kill you if they stay. _Qui-Gon's words a few days ago still instantly stirred fear inside her heart.

"Sabé—are you sure about this?" Padmé asked gently.

She gave Padmé her best attempt at a confident smile. "Don't worry about me, Padmé. I know my duty." The smile wavered. "I know the consequences. I'm sure."

Padmé smiled gently, sadly, momentarily at a loss. She hugged Sabé tightly, a gesture that bespoke love and gratitude that she couldn't quite manage with words. Clearing her throat, Padmé withdrew. "I'll be asking for that amulet back soon, Sabé."

Sabé managed a chuckle. "Good. You know me, not a jewelry girl."

Padmé's gaze turned to Obi-Wan and Sabé followed her eyeline. "He seems so standoffish. Qui-Gon is the complete opposite."

Sabé looked at Obi-Wan, contemplating. "He prefers to be on his own."

Padmé's eyes slid to Sabé sidelong. "Oh?" She asked, sounding interested, almost teasing.

Sabé tried to maintain a totally neutral demeanor. "From what I can tell."

Padmé was smiling coyly. "...he's very handsome." Her eyes flickered back to Sabé's surprised expression and a girlish grin lit up her face as her cheeks flushed slightly. "I'm not _blind_!"

Sabé shrugged. "I guess I hadn't noticed," she lied. She _had_ noticed.

Padmé sighed ruefully. "Sometimes I wish I could be a regular girl again." Padmé seemed to recollect herself and gave Sabé's arm a gentle squeeze then turned and strode off back toward where Captain Panaka was coordinating what few troops they had.

Sabé glanced to her left where the familiar brown-robed figure was leaning casually against a tree, arms folded. Obi-Wan was looking off somewhere into the distance, his face soft, thoughtful. Something about the sight of him like that stirred something in her. He looked alone. He looked how she felt. As if he felt her gaze, his head turned slightly and his eyes met hers. A strange, unbidden feeling rose in her as response, and she quickly looked away.

"_Hey_!" Sabé jumped, turning to see Anakin standing right behind her, grinning with two fistfuls of grass. He was turning it over in his hands with complete awe in his voice. "I love this stuff!" He exclaimed.

A little taken aback, and glancing around to see if he was talking to someone else, Sabé hesitated. "You mean... the grass?"

He was oblivious to her uncertainty. "Yeah. We don't have it on Tatooine," he tossed it up in the air, watching it as it fluttered down. She had never even thought of that—this child had never seen grass. He looked at from his grass-stained hands and suddenly frowned in interest. "Will this come off?"

She couldn't help it. Sabé fixed him with a sad and serious face. "No, I'm sorry, someone should have warned you." He looked at her, shocked, and then the expression melted into a laugh when she broke the serious face and grinned.

"You look _a lot_ like the real Queen," Anakin said enthusiastically. "She's very beautiful!"

"Oh, uh, thank you," Sabé managed, feeling a surprising flush of embarrassment.

Anakin dusted off his hands and looking out at the grassy plains. "So is there grass everywhere here?"

"Yes. And when we recapture the city, you'll come to Theed and see waterfalls and all kinds of flowers and birds, gardens..."

He grinned up at her. "_Wizard_! I'm actually coming along today, you know."

Sabé frowned, thinking she must have misunderstood. "Today? We're going into battle."

"Yep," he replied nonchalantly.

Sabé couldn't help herself. "Let me guess... Master Qui-Gon's idea?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Sabé snorted as she crossed her arms. "Just a hunch."

Anakin tilted his head slightly. "You don't like Jedi?"

Surprised that he would draw that conclusion, Sabé paused. "It's not that, Anakin. I just don't always... no, _usually_... agree with all their crazy logic and decisions."

"Oh." He looked at her, a little disappointed for a nanosecond. "Well I think they're _great_!"

She couldn't help but laugh at his unwavering and uninformed enthusiasm. He really was very cute, even if his enthusiasm was completely over the top.

"Look, I think someone wants you." She pointed to the main group, where Jar Jar was waving his long arms and jumping back and forth from foot to foot. Faintly, she could make out the words "Annnniii! Aaaannniii! Hey! Ober here Ani!"

"Whoops, sorry Jar Jar! I'm comin'!" He shouted, and was already taking off at a run, forgetting Sabé. She watched the small figure go, an amused smile on her face.

Presently the smile faded and remembering, Sabé looked back at where Obi-Wan had been. He was gone now.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

"The boy will be fine as long as he stays close to me," Qui-Gon said offhandedly, as if commenting on the weather. Suppressing his urge to argue, Obi-Wan simply remained silent as they boarded one of the land speeders. Out of breath and grinning, Anakin climbed in right behind him, plopping down beside Obi-Wan. At this point, Obi-Wan had given up on Qui-Gon's reasoning and would just go along with whatever his master wanted. Even if that included bringing a nine-year-old boy to what was most assuredly going to turn into a battlefront.

The mood was strange. The chaos of fear was spread throughout the ranks—the few Naboo security personnel were quickly loading up, squeezing into every last landspeeder, some guards sitting on the backs to fit. Over just where the tree line began, Panaka and Boss Nass exchanged parting words. Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he should be feeling at the moment. The now-familiar unease seemed to be louder, more concrete. His feelings told him they would meet the dark warrior again, and soon.

Beside him, Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan's sleeve, disturbing his thoughts. "Obi-Wan, sir, where's Padmé?" He couldn't see out of the deep speeder seats and his little face was the picture of worry.

Still a little stung by the way his master was taken with this child, Obi-Wan only glanced at him. "In the speeder beside us."

Anakin was quiet for all of two more seconds. "Do you think that guy with the laser sword will be waiting in the city?"

Surprised by the boy's candor Obi-Wan shrugged. "It's... possible."

A bit awed, Anakin sat back. "Whoa." The awe was quickly replaced by enthusiasm. "Well I bet you and Qui-Gon will cut him to pieces, huh!"

Obi-Wan sighed, sending Qui-Gon an annoyed glance. The older Jedi just smiled, clearly very amused by the exchange. Anything but, Obi-Wan just folded his arms, sliding down a little further into his seat. Up ahead in one of the lead landspeeders, Captain Panaka shouted out a command and the speeders all smoothly jumped forward. Obi-Wan glanced to his right, where another speeder kept in tandem with the one he was in. Seated on the outermost speeder seat, the decoy Queen stared, unseeing, somewhere out ahead of her with dark brown eyes. She felt his eyes and met his gaze unflinchingly, and somehow he felt she could see everything about him. He looked away.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_This_ is what she had trained all those years for. Charging forward, she led her group further up and further into the palace, blaster singing. There was nothing now except the moment and the instinct, the enemy and the goal: to crush all who stood in their way. Sabé loaded a new battery into her blaster deftly as she had practiced thousands of times before. She rounded a corner, Anders and Paol giving cover. With four other fighters at her side, the group practically mowed down every droid they came into contact, catching them unawares. Speed on their side, Sabé's group quickly made their way toward the throne room, responding to Padmé's distress signal.

Sabé thought briefly about how well this was going so far. It almost seemed a different day that they had slowly and stealthily used the stolen ATT to make the painstakingly slow journey from the Naboo woodlands to the waterfall passage, but it had gone off without a hitch. Heart had hammered louder than a sonic boom in Sabé's chest but she'd become calmer the moment they announced their presence to the opposition with a blast fired at one of the droid tanks. The teams had split up as planned in Naboo's hangar bay, but then the dark warrior had appeared. Sabé had seen it from a distance—Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon easily shrugging their robes off and offering their blades as combat began. She had seen nothing else, but heard the crashing sound of lightsaber striking lightsaber as she had dutifully led her team toward the palace. She had hoped to beat Padmé there, to disarm the Federation leaders herself, but somehow Padmé had beat her. But now, she would rescue her Queen.

Strange how the palace, a place she had never foreseen as being a battle ground was now just that. Behind every elegant turn or pristine column, danger might lurk. Beside priceless statues collected from Naboo's finest times in history, droids clustered. But, this also gave Sabé a huge advantage. How many times had Sabé walked the halls of this palace? She knew them like the back of her hand. She shot down three more droids directly to her left, never breaking stride. "Paol, Anders, Garlen, when we get to the throne room, we'll draw out however many possible, then we'll circle back into the south corridor and use the columns for cover and cut them off." She heard herself tersely give the orders as if someone else were speaking. They all paused at the final turn that would put them into the grand hallway, and Paol checked ahead. As soon as he gave the all-clear, everyone made the last, quick half-run to the throne-room. Sabé could see where Padmé stood, surrounded by droids and facing two familiar looking Nemoidians. Captain Panaka and his men stood behind him. Breathless with the exhilaration of adrenaline, Sabé was close to a sprint.

The second she reached range, the righteous anger rang through in her voice. "Viceroy!" Hardly breaking stride, Sabé was already lifting her blaster. "Your occupation here has ended!"

_Blat, blat!_ Her legendary aim took down two droids in the span of a couple heartbeats and Nute Gunray took the bait. "After her!" he cried, pushing Padmé aside. "This one's a decoy!"

As Sabé's group beat a hasty retreat as planned, Paol fired off a few good shots at the closer range droids. They retreated down a hall and hurried into defensive position and then easily, like a game of shoot-the-slard, the group gunned down the droids that followed them. Silence rang in the halls... and suddenly everyone was looking at each other in sheer disbelief—it was over! Eirtaé and Rabé cheered as several of the men whooped. But Sabé was frozen, listening. She held up a hand for silence. "Wait... what's that?"

Everyone froze, listening. They could hear a strange metal whirring getting louder and louder... and they all seemed to realize at the same time. "_Droidekas_!" The word sent everyone scattering for cover behind the pillars. Two of the notoriously invincible droids rounded the corner, and Sabé opened fire immediately from her cover behind one of the palace columns, hoping to do damage before the droids stopped and started generating a deflector shield—they were all dead if they couldn't disable these droids right away. Following suit, the rest of Sabé's outfit rained laserfire on the rapidly approaching droids. The droids came to a stop in precision, unfolding from their wheel shape and standing on their spindly metal legs. With a sinking feeling, Sabé watched the deflector shields activate as the two gun arms came forward with an ominous click in perfect precision. This was _not_ good. And then the droidekas began firing relentlessly.

* * *

_Parry, thrust, block, strike! _Obi-Wan Kenobi watched his master helplessly from behind a security sheet of red laser, stuck. Unthinkable didn't even begin to cover any of this. Obi-Wan impatiently clenched his jaw, watching as the Sith warrior paced back and forth several rows up, watching Qui-Gon who kneeled quietly in meditation. The security curtains separated Qui-Gon and the Sith lord by one, but Obi-Wan, who had fallen and not caught up in time, was eight curtains behind. Obi-Wan cursed himself inwardly for falling, for not running faster. His master could not handle this foe alone. He can sense his master's fatigue, his weakened spirit. Alone, he stood little chance of holding off the powerful, formidable attacks by this Sith lord. The red-and-black tattooed warrior was unthinkably fast, his power crackling with the stench of the dark side.

A sense, singing loud and clear like a bird in the morning came upon Obi-Wan, and he reignited his lightsaber, preparing for the security curtains to switch off. Qui-Gon sensed it too, jumping forth. Sprinting, Obi-Wan knew he was too slow even as he slid to a stop just in time to avoid being fried by the closing security curtain. He was just one short of reaching the power reactor where Qui-Gon and the Sith now skirted the edge of a large gaping shaft, trading lightsaber blows. Forced to just watch, Obi-Wan felt anger and fear, _real fear_ course through him. He had been so sure earlier of himself and of his master. But now he felt an overwhelming dread, the oncoming of some great and terrible thing. Qui-Gon was growing slower and slower, his defense sloppy and sluggish. And then, he felt it. Qui-Gon has momentarily lost his foothold in the Force, leaving himself vulnerable, slower. The Sith felt it too, and in horrible slow-motion, Obi-Wan watched the Sith ruthlessly stab his lightsaber into his master, who crumpled. Obi-Wan heard an anguished scream... and then realized it was himself.

* * *

"We can't hold them off much longer!" Sabé shouted as she fired off another round of shots. She squinted and ducked as the column beside her exploded in a spray of gritty rubble.

"Agreed!" Anders shouted back, shaking his blaster and hitting it on the side. "My weapon's jammed!"

In the midst of the chaotic scream of sound, Eirtaé's screams suddenly rose above all of them as she collapsed. "I'm hit!" she screeched, terrified and clutching her leg. Will Chamberlyn looked at her, his face becoming a mask of righteous anger.

"Will, _NO_!" Sabé shouted, but it was too late. He jumped out a little too far to gain a better shot, and several of the other men moved to cover him.

"Oh Gods, _Will!_" Eirtaé screamed as he took several hits. Rabé almost wasn't fast enough in grabbing and restraining her friend to keep her from crawling out into the laserfire to Will.

The hit seemed to make the droidekas braver, and they suddenly tucked into themselves, transforming back into spinning wheels, heading straight for Sabé's group. "_Run_! Everyone _RUN_!" She shouted, and they did, desperate, but the droids were blazingly fast, and even as Sabé gave the command, the droids were meters closer and opening up, the horrible sound of their armaments clicking into place freezing Sabé in her steps. She turned slowly to face the droids. If she was going to die, she would not be shot in the back.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi could barely hold himself back as the Sith paced back and forth in front of him, close enough to touch if it hadn't been for the solid and deadly wall of laser. A smile played on the man's tattooed face, teasing Obi-Wan. An anger so raw and deep curled around Obi-Wan, suffocating him and empowering him all at once. He clenched his lightsaber tighter and ignited it, sensing the time was near, every part of him singing with anticipation. The curtain switched off, and exploding forth, Obi-Wan unleashed a blazing attack fueled by impassioned rage and a hatred he could never have imagined knowing. And now, suddenly on the offensive, the Sith fell back against the power of the attack, surprised. With an ease that didn't seem possible, Obi-Wan savagely sliced his opponents twin-bladed lightsaber in half and landed a solid kick to the space the slash left open. Staggered momentarily, the Sith lord whirled into a recovery even as Obi-Wan flipped over him, a violent slash aimed for his opponent's back missing its mark as the man slipped out of reach.

Hardly pausing to breathe or think, Obi-Wan gave himself over to the heat of the moment, his body merely an afterthought as the Force flowed through him, directing his limbs into parry after thrust after parry. But he was aware of how uncontrolled he was becoming, how the frenzy was pulling him under. The dark side whispered his name, beckoned him to give into his anger fully. Obi-Wan lurched, losing control, crashing his blade against the Sith's and holding it there, so distracted by his rage that he didn't sense what happened next—a powerful Force blow pushed him back into an awkward roll, and suddenly falling, he barely managed to catch hold of a pipe on the wall of the shaft. Looking down, he saw an endless drop beneath his feet. And then, his lightsaber went toppling down into it with the lightest nudge from the Sith's foot. Obi-Wan looked up. A triumphant grin played on his opponent's face. The man laughed, a deep growl. "Fear," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. "I sense your fear." He swiped his lightsaber against the rim of the shaft. Sparks showered down, little burning nips against Obi-Wan's face and hands. "Fear is my ally." He grinned, showing pointed teeth. "This is only the beginning." The words were laced with dark prophecy so intense that Obi-Wan felt the chills run down his back. The warrior again struck the side of the shaft and sneered down at Obi-Wan who squinted against the sparks, his anger boiling over inside his blood. But then, the noise and the fury seemed to grow dim, the moment seemed to hang, suspended. A voice that sounded like Qui-Gon's came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. _Obi-Wan. Do not give into your anger. Concentrate on the moment. Feel the Force flow through you!_

The words resounded in Obi-Wan, centering him, encouraging him, and Obi-Wan forcibly pushed the dark side away, crushed his anger by reaching out for the crystalline purity of the light. Obi-Wan looked up into the eyes of evil that stared back at him and in that moment he let go of everything. Of Qui-Gon, of anger, of hatred, of fear, of uncertainty. Of his identity, of his mission, of his prejudices, of his misgivings. He was the Force. And as if he was being controlled by some divine puppeteer, he leapt high, his left hand out to catch his master's discarded lightsaber. Fluidly, as if in a dream, Obi-Wan rocketed over the Sith lord, his thumb igniting the lightsaber even as it slashed into the warrior's torso. With finality, the red and black face registered shock, the yellow eyes blinking once before the body collapsed backwards, tumbling down into the shaft. Gone like a nightmare. Obi-Wan barely paused, already rushing to his master's side, heartbroken and hoping against hope. But Qui-Gon, frail and breathing shallow, was dying and Obi-Wan knew it. "It's too late..." he choked out, even as Obi-Wan desperately protested no over and over again, holding him close like a parent might hold a child. "Promise me... train the boy... he... is the chosen one... balance... to the Force."

"Yes Master, I promise," Obi-Wan managed. Tears stung his eyes. And then Qui-Gon let out his last breath, and Obi-Wan watched the man who had been his father die.

* * *

Sabé waited for it, her ears ringing and her heart heavy as she waited for the quick death the droidekas high powered lasers would bring. But at that very moment, the droids sagged, groaned metallically, and fell over. Staring in disbelief, Sabé heard Rabé somewhere behind her. "W-what's happened?" Sabé looked out the window, where she could see in the bright blue sky the brilliant whites and oranges of explosion.

She heard herself say it, but couldn't believe it herself. "The droid control ship was destroyed."

Eirtaé ran awkwardly back up the hallway to Will who laid motionless. She was weeping as she shook his limp body. "Ouch, Eirtaé, _stop_! I'm shot, you know!" he protested, and she was suddenly screaming in delight.

"You are an _idiot_, Will Chamberlyn! Don't ever do that again!" Eirtaé shouted through tears, and he was somehow laughing and wincing, and had grabbed her in a tight hug, then groaning in pain and asking for a medic.

Sabé watched the scene with glazed over eyes, blaster still in-hand and heavier than a boulder. She leaned heavily into the column she stood beside, the feeling of loss carving her hollow and leaving her in a daze. On the polished marble floor, the bodies of men she knew for so long, trained with, laid dead and scattered. Paol, Anders, Tren. Her comlink buzzed, a strange sound. Panaka's voice called her name.

"Yes," she replied automatically.

"Sabé! Thank the Gods. The Queen wants you to return to the hangar bay and check on Anakin and bring him back to the palace. How many wounded?"

"Too many," she replied blankly. "Send whatever medics you can." She cut the transmission. And without saying anything else to anyone, she just left. As she walked through the palace, she passed countless crumpled droids. The victory seemed all the less victorious now, as she passed men and women who had fallen in the battle. Somehow she made it through the space between the palace and the hangar bay, and just as the pilots were returning. And then she noticed an especially small pilot clambering out of his yellow fighter jet and she felt her jaw drop. "_Anakin_! Where did you—"

Gavyn, who had practically swung out of his fighter was whooping and hollering as he picked the boy up and whirled him around. Sabé watched, staggered. "This kid did it! He blew up the control ship!" Gavyn shouted, and Anakin shrieked wildly with laughter as he was spun around.

"Put him down, Gavyn!" Sabé commanded angrily, marching over to them and receiving a startled look from both males. "Who let this _child_ fly a starship?"

But Gavyn was suddenly looking at somewhere further over her shoulder, an expression of pure shock on his face. Sabé turned, following his eyeline, and saw a sight she would never forget. There, only a few paces away Obi-Wan Kenobi emerged from the entrance to the power core. In his arms he held a lifeless body. Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan's face was a mask of pain, his cheeks bore tear tracks. Sabé's heart dropped. "Medic, medic, get a medic!" Gavyn was shouting.

Anakin was slowly walking forward, disbelief and horror etched in his young features. "That's not... but... he _can't_ be! No... no! Qui-Gon!" He screamed, and Sabé caught hold of him as he fell to his knees in grief. The boy began screaming like an animal, wails of rage and disbelief echoing throughout the hangar bay. His hands dug like claws into Sabé as she held him just as tightly back.

And Obi-Wan could only look at them blankly and repeated the same broken words over and over again. "It's too late. It's too late."

* * *

**That Night**

The Naboo believed in reverence and gentleness with the dead. They believed bodies should return to their mother, the goddess of earth, that she would cradle them there for the afterlife's eternity. And yet here they were, sweeping the dead up like dirt on a floor.

Sabé wasn't supposed to be there—as a royal handmaiden she was charged to be with the Queen at most times. But Padmé in all of her insight had gently asked Sabé if she wanted to accompany Panaka in the beginnings of the droid cleanup. Now, Sabé almost wished she hadn't said yes. They went up and down street after street, recovering the bodies and droids alike from the heart of Theed. The droids were left in piles, the people were put into speeder after speeder. Most were security forces, but every now and again, they found civilians. Exhausted beyond measure and covered in soot from the smoking house she'd just recovered another civilian from, Sabé leaned heavily against the speeder, her vision gray from tears and soot. She had scrubbed the royal makeup from her face and taken off the head dress, but she hadn't had time to change her clothes. Either way she looked, there were other security forces bringing up the bodies from this street. Empty, dark windows lined the street. It was eerily quiet. She knew she shouldn't, but she glanced over into the landspeeder she was leaning on, where the bodies were carefully stacked. And there, on top... Sabé just stared. It was a girl around her age with beautiful blonde hair, a face like porcelain. But her eyes were open in shock. Blaster marks riddled her torso.

Captain Panaka set down another body on top of the girl—one she recognized. Her old friend—Sol— so tall and handsome was now crumpled and gray, devoid of life and completely gone. His dark handsome features now didn't make sense visually. Sabé couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight, but Captain Panaka forcibly drew her away by placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Come away, Sabé."

"I knew Sol since I joined the forces," she said numbly, staring at his body.

Panaka ignored the statement. "Naboo's laws and weapons policies will change because of this."

Sabé stopped. "Is that enough? Was his life worth only that? Were any of these people's? They _die_ without a reason to show people what they should have known already?" Shaking against the cold and the shock, Sabé could barely hold back her angry, confused tears. Her voice trembled with emotion and tears. "And then collected in the middle of the night like it's a secret? Like we're sweeping the bad dream away under a rug? Why aren't you upset? These are _your _men and women we're burying."

"You don't think I know that?" Panaka snapped, abruptly the polar opposite of the calm indifference he had projected just a moment ago. "These men and women are _my life_! And all of their lives were my responsibility." He pinched the bridge of his nose, restraining his sorrow.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain," Sabé apologized feebly, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

Captain Panaka was looking somewhere far away. "I knew Sol since he was a young boy. His father was in the forces until an injury prevented him from walking. Sol was a good boy. He joined up to put himself through the academy. He loved boating. He wanted to someday own a fishing business of all things." He shook his head, and his eyes shone with the hint of tears. "Each and every one of these people here were well loved by me." He sniffed loudly, cleared his throat and shouted something at one of the men down the street, covering his emotion with gruffness.

Sabé looked at him with new eyes, suddenly loving him more than ever and never wanting to leave. "Captain, I shouldn't be a handmaiden, I should be with you fighting—I don't belong there." She motioned in the general direction of the palace.

Panaka pushed his hat back slightly, shaking his head. "Nebira, you learned a long time ago that a weapon doesn't give you control. And neither does a rank in some pacifist security force. You are where you belong. I'm confident in that. _You_ are a _protector_. Not a fighter."

"But—"

"No. I want you to go. Go to the Queen. Get some rest. Tomorrow we must receive members Jedi Council and begin the process of cataloging the dead. I don't want you anywhere but beside the Queen from now on." He didn't give her a chance to argue, instead walked away, leaving her standing alone beside a land speeder full of deceased. Hurt, she stormed away in the opposite direction, barely able to see in the dark but too angry to care. She broke into a run, racing through the streets and into the gardens, finally falling down onto the soft wet grass. In the quiet darkness, she sobbed, for no reason and for every reason.

* * *

**Two Days Later**

Concealed within the darkness of one of the royal gardens, Obi-Wan had lost track of time. The moon, low and full, cast a silver glow over everything around him. As soon as the party had begun, he had slipped out. Queen Amidala had insisted on especially him and Anakin attending the banquet party. Obi-Wan had never been one for parties or celebrations—it simply wasn't the Jedi way. And especially after what he had endured the past two days. It had been a blur, really. All he knew was that he was forever changed. Luckily he had been given time to meditate and reflect. Deeper than deep he feared he would never completely let go of Qui-Gon. He had loved him more than he had ever truly realized. He had become attached.

Bitterness at the loss and the knowledge that he was nothing like he thought himself to be, Obi-Wan stopped walking. In front of him, the balcony he had entered the garden through. Past it, the warm glow of the party inside shone through the high paned glass windows and the arched doorway onto the balcony. He could hear laughter, conversation, music. He contemplated the stairs and climbing them, going into the party to be polite, at least. But he didn't move. Just stood there in the darkness, preferring to remain alone, preferring not to go see people laughing, drunk, and celebrating. He had nothing to celebrate.

A movement caught his eye. Someone was coming out onto the balcony. Obi-Wan saw it was one of the handmaidens as she went to the stone wall of the balcony and leaned her arms there. She had drawn the light green hood back away from her head and was oblivious to his presence. He recognized her immediately. It was One… the decoy Queen. She had dark brown hair and features very similar to Padmé's, but she looked a little older and more shrewd. The effect of her hair knotted low at one side of her neck and the hood down made her look incredibly normal, but the silvery moonlight made her small silhouette glow. As she leaned against the wall of the balcony, her somber eyes searched the skyline of the city above and beyond where he stood.

Obi-Wan thought how it was strange to be shadowed in the dark and aware of a person who was not aware of him.

* * *

Naboo's night air was thick and cool and full of the richness of earth and ozone. The moon, full and low cast a silver glow over the city. Sabé leaned on the low stone wall of one of the smaller, more private patios off the grand ballroom. Beside her, a small stone staircase led down into one of the many adjoining gardens of the palace. She eyed the dark shapes of the garden longingly, wished she could run away into the night. But any moment Padmé might need her. This brief rest from her duties would not be long-lived. Sabé's eyes drifted from the garden to the whole of Theed before her—she could see beyond the palace confines its elegant buildings, cobblestone streets, the shimmering lake valley off to the right. The forever constant thundering rush of the many waterfalls was a soothing background noise. Over it, the sound of music and laughter and tinkling wine glasses floated, reminding Sabé of the grand celebration inside the grand ballroom behind her. The celebration of the defeat of the Trade Federation's occupation was currently on its fourth hour. But Sabé was not ready to celebrate. Instead, she was haunted by images of the dead. Her sleep had been plagued with nightmares. Her mostly-forced smiles, so frequent in public, had been followed by waves of guilt.

War had left its ugly mark on the city, its citizens. The skyline of Theed was changed, the Central Atrium's familiar dome was half crushed, broken by heavy artillery in the battle that had waged two days prior. Broken, dead droids were piled high throughout the city streets, awaiting incineration. Outside of the city, the droid's makeshift camps stood, empty and ghostly. So many had died needlessly there. Earlier that day, Sabé had managed to go visit Gregar, who was hospitalized for numerous injuries. He had lost his right eye, and when she had gone to him, he'd been ashamed. A loud burst of laughter inside startled her momentarily from the thoughts. _How can anyone be happy at a time like this?_ Sabé had never felt this deep of a sorrow before. It seemed to settle into her very bones. Yes, they won the battle—they had prevented thousands more from dying, they had liberated their planet from captivity. But Naboo, so innocent and peaceful by nature, had been so unprepared for what had happened to them. What if something like this happened again? Sabé never pretended to be naive to the realities of the galaxy, and yet somehow she, too, had thought Naboo would forever be untouched. This was her naivety—the naivety of her people whose peaceful hearts could have never imagined such genocide or violence. Naboo would never be the same again. Sabé wiped away a tear that rolled onto her cheek, surprised to find it there. Perhaps it was _her _that would never be the same again.

Her thoughts drifted to Qui-Gon. His murder was another hit to Sabé's perceptions of the galaxy she lived in. Jedi were supposed to be nearly invincible. Sith were supposed to be extinct, a remnant of a bad dream, a darker time in history best left forgotten. _Sith. _The word echoed through her mind, mocking everything she thought she knew. More silent tears ran down her cheeks as she remembered a man's lowest moment in life. Obi-Wan, eyes red from crying, spirit extinguished of all the insolence and arrogance that had been there before. He hadn't been a Jedi in that moment. He had been all human, no room for anything else, and Sabé's heart had gone out to him, anguished for him at the same time that she anguished for herself, every bad memory returning all at once to the forefront of her mind. She shut her eyes against the tears. No matter the weapons she knew how to use, the quickness of her aim, death was always there, reminding her of how finite life was, how difficult to hold onto.

A rustling somewhere in the dark garden below startled her, and immediately fearing the worst, Sabé reached for her weapon—only to hear a soft, familiar chuckle followed by an even more familiar voice. "It's only me." Coming into the light up the stone stairway was one Obi-Wan Kenobi, smiling a little at Sabé's reaction to his presence.

Trying to quickly and subtly wipe away her now-forgotten tears, Sabé cleared her throat and recomposed herself, quickly dashing away the tear tracks on her cheeks. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. Obi-Wan leaned casually against the wall near her.

"Just enjoying the scenery," he replied a little dryly.

"For two hours?" Sabé asked. At his surprised look, Sabé nodded. "I saw when you left. I assumed you went back to your room." She paused, and as she looked at him, she saw how tired he was. How worn his young features were. Sabé hesitated, going out on a limb. "If you want to leave the party... no one will stop you."

He smiled thinly at the suggestion. "It would be impolite to leave after the Queen's request to attend."

An amused expression came over Sabé's face. "_Ah_. That's the Obi-Wan I know... always concerned with what's most polite."

They shared a look which dissolved into soft, tired laughter.

"Why are you troubled?" He asked softly, surprising her with how interested he sounded to know the answer.

Sabé shook her head, a little uncomfortable at his concern. "It... doesn't matter."

He took the comment as she had intended and said nothing more. Sabé eyed him discreetly.

Somewhere in his mid-twenties, Obi-Wan was of average height and build, and nothing about his appearance really seemed to say 'extraordinary.' Even so, Sabé knew she was standing next to a man who was legend itself—the first Jedi Knight to defeat a Sith in lifetimes. He looked so very tired, so worn down. Sabé looked at him from the corner of her eye, wondering. She hadn't seen him since the day they had recaptured Theed. He seemed subdued, humbler than she remembered. Even his posture seemed different. This was the man who had single handedly defeated a Sith lord. Sabé was a little awed but also felt a little bit of worry. He seemed downtrodden and exhausted. Did it trouble him that inside everyone was carrying on?

His gaze was far off, his expression somber and reflective. Sabé paused, considering what might be an impertinent question. "Have you slept, Obi-Wan?"

His jaw tightened just barely, his eyes drifted her way just slightly. "No." There was such masked pain in that single-syllable word. Such defeat. Again, she remembered his face, his eyes as he carried his dead master. Truly, a moment she could never forget. Speechless, Sabé touched his arm briefly, trying to offer some kind of comfort, she guessed. She squeezed softly, then let go, clasped her hands together.

He was silent for a moment. "I don't even know your name."

He _didn't,_ did he? Sabé smiled a little, held her hand out for a handshake. "I'm Sabé."

Obi-Wan took her hand and shook it firmly—his hand was warm and pleasant. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Sabé," he said, throwing in a little of the playful cynicism she'd seen him display on the starship during their Tatooine stay.

But Sabé was thinking of how he'd helped save her planet. And when she said, "likewise, I'm sure," she sounded a lot more awed and affected than she'd meant to.

They let go and fell into companionable silence. Sabé stole side glances at him. She read people all the time, memorized their faces and attributes, and somehow she had never done this with Obi-Wan. She had noticed a few offhand things—like he had an attitude and wore boots and liked to make bad jokes. But now she_ really_ looked. He seemed very young. He was probably twenty and five or so, but still. He seemed young. He had wrinkles in places he shouldn't—one in the middle of his forehead from frowning. He glanced at her sidelong, a boyish smile on his face as if he knew her thoughts were centered on him.

"Ouch!" Sabé said, suddenly aware that she had placed her palm down onto a thorny patch of the plant that grew along parts of the railing. She looked at her palm, where the sharp shock of pain had come from—there was a vivid splash of blood.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes, yes, _fine_," Sabé replied shortly, irritated with herself and staring at her hand. Ignoring the comment, he held out his hand, beckoning.

"Let me see. It could get infected." Sabé hesitated, and then gave in with a loud huff. She held her hand out, palm facing up, and he gently drew her hand into his. It was warm and callused and was making Sabé self conscious. She cleared her throat in nervous anxiety. He looked up at her, and that made it worse.

At that moment, both of them simultaneously became aware of a single presence watching them from the doorway—little Anakin, looking very sleepy and desperate. "_There_ you are, Obi-Wan sir."

Sabé looked at Obi-Wan, yanking her hand back almost forcefully.

"I'm really tired, Master sir." Anakin looked from his new master to Sabé, obviously so worn out.

Clenching her fist closed to stop whatever bleeding was happening, Sabé looked at Obi-Wan whose expression was once again somber and gaunt. "Let me take him to your room," she offered, sensing that Obi-Wan needed as much alone time as he could get right now. "I'll stay with him awhile."

Obi-Wan's face registered his surprise and he opened his mouth to protest.

"Good, it's settled then," Sabé said, going to Anakin and taking hold of his shoulders. She gave Obi-Wan a smile. "You take your time, Master Kenobi. Anakin will be just fine with me."

And she steered the child away without giving Obi-Wan a chance to truly protest.

Sabé and Anakin walked the quiet, dark hallways of the western quarters of the palace and up into the guest chambers. The room where Obi-Wan and he were staying was a lavish suite with a grand central room. Anakin went to the couch there and without a word collapsed onto it.

"Anakin, don't you want to get into the bed?" Sabé asked.

"No," was his sleepy, small reply. "It's too soft."

"Too soft?" She asked, and he just made a groggy sound, already falling asleep. Sabé went to the linen closet and brought a blanket to him then gently tucked it around him as he mumbled a hardly-understandable "thank you." Sabé chuckled a little and went around turning off the lights. By the time she'd finished, the youngster was still and already sleeping. Sabé let the door to the room shut behind her, going to the hallway outside of it where there was a large window. She could see the city and moon once more. There was something about the sight of the elements that always put her at ease. If one thing was constant, it was the universe.

Perhaps twenty minutes passed and then the sound of approaching footfalls alerted her to Obi-Wan's presence. She turned slightly. He hadn't taken that long, but maybe he was tired, too.

Obi-Wan acknowledged her with a nod and Sabé looked toward the room. "He wouldn't sleep in his bed. He's on the couch."

A soft, rueful smile came over Obi-Wan's face. "I don't think he's used to the luxury afforded him in this place," he said, glancing around a little.

"I'll bid you a good night then," Sabé said, then paused, looking at Obi-Wan softly. It wasn't really her place, but she asked anyway: "Will you be all right?"

He looked surprised at the question and the tone she asked it in—so much in fact that Sabé wondered if she were the only one to have asked him that. Then he smiled a smile that was more for her benefit than his and inclined his head. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Sabé, for your kindness."

"Of course," she returned politely, and took the hint. "Goodnight, Jedi Kenobi." She walked away from him then. She wouldn't see him again for two years thereafter.

* * *

Obi-Wan stole quietly into the room where Anakin was asleep on the couch. All that was visible was a tuft of sandy blond hair above the blanket that swallowed his little form whole.

Tomorrow Obi-Wan and his Padawan would leave, outbound for whatever fate held next. His _Padawan_. The thought was alien and harrowing. He thought back to just days ago, when he had looked at Naboo and its people with such indifference. When he had been a learner. When he had assumed he would be at Qui-Gon's side for a much longer time. He had lived a life of constant change, and yet he had lived it with Qui-Gon at his side. Some part of him had believed he and Qui-Gon would be always on an adventure, at odds in their own dynamic way, conquering problems. The free spirit and the painstakingly meticulous rule-follower. Tonight, life was yet again unknown. He was comforted by the Force's presence and the knowledge that even if everything else were ripped away, it would remain forever constant. He could let Qui-Gon go—the initial shock and grief had crashed over him and now glazed over into a dull ache that would remind him of the loss for a long time. Perhaps even forever. It wasn't the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan would allow himself this one thing. He smiled ruefully, realizing how much of Qui-Gon's padawan he truly was, despite his objections to the contrary.

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath. He had disappointed Qui-Gon many times before, let him down, and doubted him. They had disagreed too many times to count. But at his core, Obi-Wan had made the decision to trust Qui-Gon. And Qui-Gon believed in Anakin. So Obi-Wan refused to let Qui-Gon down this final time. He would keep his word—train the boy—and trust that his master's dying request was part of the Force's plan. Obi-Wan Kenobi willed himself to be brave, willed himself to step up to the task at hand.

And still, the smallest, strangest sense of foreboding remained.

* * *

**The Next Day**

Sabé picked her way through the waterfall gardens, two flowers in hand. The hour was early and the grass was wet with dew. Just ahead, the magnificent sound of the thundering falls and the sight of the cool mist it sprayed.

She hadn't been here in years. The graveyard was different than she remembered. It seemed smaller, lonelier. Situated beside the grand river and filled with the creeping ivy and flourishing blooms found everywhere else in Theed, it could almost pass for a garden or sanctuary if it wasn't for the somber stone and marble headstones. Sabé passed under another elegant stone arch, remembering it vaguely and continuing on. And there, finally, she saw them, two weathered headstones that stood side by side—they bore nothing except the names. Thrace Nebira. Eislana Nebira. A strange emotion rose in Sabé as she approached the graves silently. Sometimes, it seemed imaginary that they were truly gone. A lone bird sang a long, haunting call from somewhere nearby. It paused between calls, listening for a reply, but none came. After a moment, Sabé took one flower and gently laid it on top of her mother's grave. "I wish I had really known you," she said softly. She laid the other flower down on her father's grave, remembering his tired smile, his deep chuckle. "Miss you, Papa." A light breeze stirred, catching her hair in it. The familiar sadness still weighed heavy on her heart, but louder than it was a relief and hope that sent her heart singing to the tune of the bird's song. Finally, some small part of herself felt a quenching peace it had quietly longed for a time too long to sum. She drew her cloak around her tighter, reliving moments from what seemed to be a former life. And then, after whispering a few parting words to her parents, she left.

As she walked back the way she had come, it seemed like every step was easier than the last. She heard the rumble of a large ship taking off, and paused, looking to the sky. There, the Republic cruiser carrying all of the Jedi, including Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin, slowly lifted into the wide blue. A strange and fleeting feeling of loss shimmering through her as she squinted up at it. She should have been there with Padmé and the others to see them off, but had taken her last leave of absence at Padmé's insistence. It mattered little, anyway, Sabé reasoned. It was impolite to not be there to see of Obi-Wan and Anakin, both of them makeshift acquaintance at best... but, she doubted she'd ever see either of them again, anyway.

Padmé was right. Sabé needed some time to herself. Sabé resumed walking, listened to the sound of the cruiser's engines fading, moments from the last few days filtering through her mind.

In five days time she would return to the busy life of a royal handmaiden where a thousand things needed her attention, where days flew by in service to everyone but herself. But for now, she would visit the family she had left and try her best to make peace with parts of her rocky past. Sabé breathed the morning air in deeply and then paused as she came to the entrance of the graveyard, looked back once. Then she stepped out, away from the infinite sadness and into the future wide open.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

* * *

**Two Years Later  
Somewhere on the Outskirts of Mos Espa, Tatooine**

A dark figure slowly stole from shadow to shadow, soundlessly making its way into the depths of the dimly-lit compound. The floor was rough with sand that had scattered in from the Tatooine wind and been tracked in by the smugglers and pirates who no doubt had used this abandoned warehouse as their base for their illicit activities for many years. A sudden and almost imperceptibly soft noise halted the intruder in his tracks.

"Stop there! Hands up." It was a Rodian with heavily accented Basic and a large blaster. He slipped out of the shadows, motioning the intruder forward. "Who are you?" the alien asked, but even as the last word left the alien's lips, his blaster snapped forcefully from his grip and into the waiting hand of one Obi-Wan Kenobi, who smiled gingerly and held the weapon like a woman might hold a dead womp rat. With subtle flick of his other wrist, he drew back his robe to show the lightsaber on his belt. Immediately, the Rodian's expression changed from threatening to startled, and then from startled to afraid.

Smiling politely, Obi-Wan dropped and kicked the blaster out of reach where it skittered to a stop a couple meters away. "I think _I'll_ ask the questions," he said mildly, pulling his hood down with exaggerated casualness. "Beginning with the location of the woman your organization kidnapped two weeks ago. I believe you thought her to be the Queen of Naboo."

"She weren't Queen, weren't Queen!" the bounty hunter stammered, his eyes nervously going from the lightsaber to Obi-Wan and then to his gun, discarded on the floor. "We sell her right away when we realize this, please, please... believe me."

"Sold her?" Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose as he realized how much more complicated the situation had become. "And to _whom _was she sold?"

The Rodian hesitated, no doubt thinking over the consequences of being labeled a snitch. And then in turn, the consequences of not listening to a Jedi. He shrank back slightly, his hands up in a helpless, sniveling gesture. "Decoy sell to Jabba the Hutt... he always wanting for new dancing girl... he going through them so quick..." the Rodian trailed off, unable to stop staring at Obi-Wan's lightsaber.

Obi-Wan reached into the living Force, opening himself to the inherent truth, testing the Rodian's words. He waited, and then, satisfied, nodded. "Thank you, friend. I'll be on my way." He turned to leave the way he had gone, but before he had even taken a step, the Rodian was diving for his blaster and firing off a couple of errant shots at Obi-Wan. Funny thing about Jedi, they can react much faster than most fools dare to think—and so was the case with this Rodian, who found himself quite dead, not at the slice of a blade, but the refraction of his own laserfire off the already-ignited lightsaber. Obi-Wan sighed in annoyance and cut his lightsaber off with snap-hiss. "I _didn't_ want to do that." He went back out the way he came, muttering about reckless fools with death wishes. Outside, his borrowed speeder bike waited, carefully hidden behind one of the many large rock formations.

Tatooine was exactly as Obi-Wan remembered it. The twin suns burned down out of their cloudless blue sky washing the vast wastes of the planet in blistering heat and brightness. In the distance the sandy flatlands shimmered in a liquid haze of constant mirage. The air was dry as bone and empty of sounds other than that of the occasional winds whistling through rock. —

On the outskirts of Mos Espa earlier that day, Obi-Wan had been lucky enough to get a lead to this dump but now would need to return to the city to find out how to get to Jabba's Palace. This was not good. Jabba was notorious throughout the galaxy for his influence and resources... and penchant for leaving a trail of dead sentients in his path. Obi-Wan's instincts urged him to be quick. Kicking the bike into gear, he headed back toward Mos Espa.

As the bleak Tatooine landscape whizzed by, Obi-Wan again contemplated the situation. He found it too much of a coincidence to be actually _be_ a coincidence. In his experience, there was no such thing as dumb luck or mere coincidence. Just under ten standard hours ago, the call came from the Council—and Obi-Wan, in a neighboring star system, had immediately accepted the mission and made quick time journeying to Tatooine. His surprise had not been little when they told him the name of the woman who had been kidnapped from Naboo. Sabé Nebira. Although it had been two years ago, he remembered some parts like it were yesterday. And even though he had all but forgotten about her until that moment, when the name was spoken, the memory was immediate and vivid. Everything that he had blocked out had come rushing back—especially the small kindness the handmaiden had paid him that night on Naboo.

It had been a dark time for him when Qui-Gon had died. Obi-Wan had since given the thoughts of his master's death and the circumstances that surrounded it a wide berth. His heart ached as he thought of how needless the loss of Qui-Gon's wisdom and strength had been, what a hole it had left in his life. Even as the pain threatened to give way to more pain, Obi-Wan stilled the thoughts—it was against the Jedi way to dwell on the past, on grief or anger, two things he so acutely felt when he thought of those days. He remembered anew why he had been so careful to leave the memories alone. A heavy thought rested on his heart in that moment. He felt ten years older than he had two ago. Once again forcibly turning his mind away from personal grief, Obi-Wan watched the city of Mos Eisley's skyline grow defined on the horizon. And again, he felt the Force urging him to be swift.

* * *

Many kilometers away and somewhere deep within the lowest levels Jabba the Hutt's palace, Sabé Nebira stilled her ragged breathing, every sensory nerve on high alert. After a moment, confident the noise she had heard wasn't a patrolling guard, she darted from one shadow to the next. Today marked the second time she had escaped from her prison cell at Jabba's palace. The first time had been much easier, but this time with the addition of binders around her wrists... well, it made things more interesting to say the least. Again she paused, her adrenaline surging like a tempest as she waited in shadow, calculated her next move. The jail quarter was dark as night, a damp and cloying maze of endless tunnels. It was impossible to know what might be around the corner, waiting in the darkness. Even if she managed to find her way out of the prison quarter, she knew there was little hope of evading the countless guards in the levels above. But if she perished, she would perish. She refused to die in captivity. She darted across the dark corridor quietly, catching a startling glimpse of herself in a puddle of standing water—she barely recognized herself in the tight, neon dress she was wearing. With strategic holes cut in it to reveal glaring flashes of skin and one arm bared completely, she looked garish and the handmaiden who was so used to being covered head-to-toe felt exposed and constricted all at once. The sound of approaching footsteps caused Sabé to jump back into the shadows, heart pounding violently in her chest. She held her breath as a Gammorean guard waddled past, close enough to reach out and touch. Skin crawling as panic closed her throat, Sabé could only wait and pray to any god that existed to return her to the life that she had been stolen from.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood outside of a local Mos Espa cantina, scolding himself thoroughly as he ran a hand through his increasingly shaggy hair. To learn how to get to Jabba's Palace, he had gone into a cantina... a no-weapons cantina. He hadn't sensed any danger in discreetly hiding his lightsaber outside the cantina in an out-of-the-way nook. In fact, it had almost felt like the Force had_ guided_ that decision, _suggested_ he hide the weapon there while he was inside the cantina. But now, _the lightsaber wasn't there_. Staring blankly at the cracked stone wall, Obi-Wan stretched out with his feelings, fighting a very unfamiliar feeling of panic. The city had so many lifeforms, so many beings, and frowning, Obi-Wan tried harder, willing the Force to show him who had taken the lightsaber. But it was like trying to find a single, specific grain of sand in the desert tundra. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, reluctant to go anywhere without his weapon. The Force quietly urged him to focus on his mission and waste no time. _But I _need_ my weapon_. The thought was tinged with something close to despair. _A solution always presents itself_, another part of his mind reminded him. And so with the shortest of pauses, Obi-Wan, lightsaberless and deeply troubled, swung back onto his speederbike and headed South where he would find Jabba's Palace.

* * *

**Several Hours Later**

With her wrists still in chains and her head pounding from a disciplinary blow from the guard who had caught her, Sabé blinked against blurry vision. She wasn't sure how long she had been knocked unconscious or what was happening, really. Her entire body hurt. One of her cheeks felt as if it had been touched with burning wire, her lower lip throbbed in pain. Her ribs felt bruised. She vaguely recalled being beaten and dragged after the guards had found her in the upper levels of the palace. But the world was shaky and dim. She was aware that she was being led by one of the guards down a tunnel now. His grip on her arm was vice-like and bruising. She supposed she had been without hope since the beginning and that now, death was closer and more certain than it had ever been. The thought was strange and stirred despair like she had never known.

At her side, the guard's grip tightened even more, but Sabé said nothing, silent tears of pain and hopelessness filling her tired eyes. Her life would soon be over. No one had sent help and she couldn't survive on her own. All that was left to do was be strong until the end. But inside, Sabé felt small and afraid. She didn't want to die, not yet. Up ahead, the entrance the the Jabba's throne room loomed, promising her final moment was even closer than she had imagined.

The small, dank throne room was full past capacity with bounty hunters, pirates, crime lords and the other riffraff Jabba surrounded himself with. The heavy air was thick with smoke from pipes, making it hard to breathe. The guard who held Sabé stopped to speak loudly to a masked bounty hunter in a language Sabé did not understand, but even if she had understood, perhaps she wouldn't have cared. She simply stood there with limp arms, waiting, trying to clear her foggy vision by blinking a lot. She could see Jabba from the corner of her eye where he sat on his throne, oblivious to her at the moment, entranced with a Twi'Lek girl in front of him. Sabé looked away, sickened with her reality. She wanted to believe a rescue was on the way but wouldn't allow herself the futility of hope. If anyone were coming, they would have already come. Again, tears came, her throat felt that it would burst with the pain of suppressed tears. Abandoned again, once final time. Fate seemed determined to mock her.

Just then Sabé was shoved without warning from her current escort to another—the masked bounty hunter who had been speaking to the guard. He was not much taller than Sabé, but with full body armor designed to look reptilian and a fierce helmet with jagged spikes that hid his face and head, he looked ruthless and unforgiving. At his side were both a large blaster and a gleaming blade. Chilled by absolute horror, Sabé realized she was barely breathing. Wordlessly the silent bounty hunter led her by the chain attached, but not toward the throne—away. Confused, Sabé barely had time to process it before she heard an unmistakable roar. Jabba and his entire assembly were looking at her, and Jabba's expression grew dark. He shouted for the bounty hunter to come to him. The bounty hunter looked from Sabé to Jabba with the slightest turn of his head, and then obeyed, leading Sabé back and up to the center of the room. Sabé kept her eyes down. She felt dizzy and sick with adrenaline, low blood sugar, the knowledge of what was coming.

Jabba the Hutt, infamous and grotesque, sat elevated on his throne, a giant wrinkled shapeless mass. He frowned as she approached, his bulbous yellow eyes swiveling over her with displeasure. He let out a loud sound as he held a stub of an arm up, unhappy. "What is she doing here? I tire of her insolence and did not want to see her today!"

The bounty hunter holding her said nothing for a long moment, and then, in a low, gravely voice: "She tried to escape again, Mighty Jabba."

Jabba's eyes narrowed at Sabé and she shrank back subconsciously. "You have displeased me for the last time," he barked in Huttese, and then let out a soft, trailing laugh. "The penalty... is death."

The occupants of the room cheered even as Sabé's stomach twisted. She could almost taste their thirst for blood in the air as they began to chant "Kill! Kill! Kill!" The next moment seemed to unfold slowly. As the sun rises on a dark world, Sabé felt herself remembering who she was before her capture. Strong, brave, resourceful. Not a coward, not a submissive weakling who would walk wordlessly to her death. Beside her, the bounty hunter who held her chain shifted, and Sabé felt her adrenaline surging, the moment becoming slow motion as she seized what would be her last opportunity. With surprising swiftness, she yanked the blaster from his holster, shooting him at point-blank range and not even stopping to look back, she ran, spraying clumsy, random laserfire in front of her, sending Jabba's cronies diving for cover, hearing herself screaming a strange, desperate battle cry as she ran for the closest doorway. And just when she thought she was going to make it—she was tackled to the ground from behind, and was yanked to her feet to find a guard holding her tightly. Her weapon, her only hope, lay motionless on the ground in front of her, and she realized she was shaking, screaming words she didn't even understand.

Jabba's throne room had become still now, maybe waiting to see what was to happen next. The bounty hunter who Sabé had shot stood slowly and took his gun back from where it had fallen, his silence eerie. He motioned to the guard to hand her over to him. The occupants of the room erupted into gleeful shouts and exclamations—if there was one thing they loved, it was revenge and murder in cold blood. Sabé was shoved toward him, and shaking, she raised her fists as her last line of defense against the silent bounty hunter. He stepped closer, and closer, until he was almost within arms reach. Sabé leapt forward in a clumsy attack, barely able to stand straight enough to throw a good punch. He ducked the hook easily and Sabé pitched forward. She shrieked in a mixture of fear and confusion as she found herself scooped up and thrown over the bounty hunter's shoulder unceremoniously. The world, upside down, bounced wildly and she realized he was _running_ faster than she had ever run before.

"Put me down!" Sabé shrieked, beating her fists helplessly against his back. "What are you doing? _Put me down!_" her screeches echoed down the hallway but the bounty hunter didn't stop, just ran. Behind them and upside down, she could make out several of Jabba's other bounty hunters chasing, but they seemed very far away, very slow. The heavy smell of fuel and grease hit her nostrils and she realized they were in the palace's hangar bay. Suddenly she understood. This fool bounty hunter thought she was Queen Amidala and she was being kidnapped all over again. "Put me down!" she howled hysterically, and suddenly found herself sprawled on the floor of the hangar bay at the feet of her captor who was ripping off his helmet and panting.

"It's _me_!" he hissed, his face contorted in a mixture of pain or exertion, she wasn't sure. What she was sure of, was that she _knew_ this man. Sabé felt her mouth go slack in shock, her heart soar in a hope like she had never felt before, her hand which was raised in defense floated back down."O-Obi-Wan Kenobi?!" Flabbergasted, horrified that she had shot him, relieved that rescue was there—she couldn't process all of it. But he had other things on his mind, pulling her to her feet and manhandling her toward a nearby skiff—their way out. Even though she only glanced at it cursory, the appearance was old and shabby. And even in that moment a thought darted through her mind: would the vehicle even start? How long had he been here? Did he plan this? Were others here, too to rescue her?

She didn't have much time to process any more as they managed to clamor aboard the small vehicle and Obi-Wan initiated the start sequence and then—nothing. "What?" he exclaimed to himself, sounding genuinely surprised.

And then, a commotion at the entrance they had entered in just a few short seconds ago. Several bounty hunters were advancing with their weapons raised high, and suddenly laserfire sent Sabé ducking low. And there, safely protected by the raised metallic casing siding of the skiff, she noticed the blaster rifle Obi-Wan had dropped. It laid beside his foot as he continued to key the initiation, cursing as he waited, hunched over in a seemingly vain attempt to avoid the laserfire.

Without thinking twice, Sabé shouldered the blaster rifle and began to return fire, crouched so that only her sights and top of her head were above the metal wall of safety. The wild, clumsy pattern of red lasers rained over the bounty hunters, sending them scattering and diving for cover. "Don't let them reach the control panel!" Obi-Wan barked, as if reading their opponent's minds.

Sabé cursed as one of the heavily armored bounty hunters ducked past her cover fire and out of her sights. "Too late, _hurry_! They'll close the main door!" Heavy return laserfire began coming her way and she ducked down again as the impact of the red-hot lasers shook the body of the skiff. "Obi-Wan, _hurry_!" She shouted again.

"Working on it," he replied, a little too calm for her liking. He touched two wires together, sending sparks flying—and just like that, the skiff roared to life and lurched forward toward the hangar bay door which was now closing. From where she crouched in the back of the skiff, Sabé felt certain they couldn't make it as they raced toward the dropping wall of sheer metal. She held on for dear life, feeling sicker than she ever had before. With barely a meter to spare, they safely shot out into the blazing sunlight.

Hardly believing their luck, Sabé peered behind them. The grand structure of Jabba's Palace was rapidly shrinking. But before she could begin to celebrate, she saw something else—a small object catching up to them at breakneck speed. Squinting as she clutched the rifle to her, she was able to see that it was a small swoop bike. Swoop bikes were known for their power, maneuverability, and most of all, speed. Gaining ground rapidly, it was merely seconds before the bike was in range and firing on the skiff. Their vehicle shuddered as it endured several hits. "Looks like we've got company," Obi-Wan shouted over the noise of wind and laserfire. "Hold on tightly!" Taking evasive action, the skiff rocked from side to side as Obi-Wan dodged and weaved, piloting at reckless speeds in a dizzying pattern. Sabé's body begged for the madness to stop, her stomach protesting the wild ride. The sound of laserfire never stopped, and several more shots hit the skiff. Each one seemed to guarantee they were that much closer to being destroyed. Gritting her teeth against her protesting body, Sabé steeled herself. Re-hoisting the blaster and standing in a wide stance as the skiff rocked side to side, Sabé let her blaster sing. The bounty hunter in pursuit, suddenly on defensive, began to weave back and forth, making it impossible for her to get a solid shot. Almost losing her balance as Obi-Wan narrowly avoided a jagged rock formation, she toppled sideways. "Sorry!" Obi-Wan shouted over his shoulder.

"Where did you learn to drive?!" She shouted over her shoulder a little heatedly, and almost thought she heard him laugh. In that brief moment, Sabé saw a flash of brown down near her feet—in the corner of the skiff, Obi-Wan's Jedi tunic and cloak were neatly folded. Something about the sight of it somehow made her heart leap in hope. He _did_ have a plan. This skiff was part of it—never mind that it didn't start to begin with or that Obi-Wan had used a more reckless method to save her—he did have a plan and she _would_ see Naboo again!

Interrupting her fleeting moment of jubilee, another shot hit the skiff, hitting the vehicle hard enough to make it jitter and shudder. Deciding on a new strategy, Sabé knelt, using the end railing as a stabilizer for the blaster, working on calming her breathing and slowing her heart rate. Just like Panaka had taught—she set her sights, waited until the bike settled into her sights, and squeezed the trigger just once. The single shot hit the bike dead on, causing the vehicle to veer wildly and then crash into a boulder with a deafening explosion. Letting loose a shout of pure jubilance as she leapt to her feet in victory, Sabé nearly lost her balance again as the skiff took a sharp turn.

"Do you want me to pilot?" Sabé snapped at him over the wind, clutching the siding of the skiff for dear life.

"But I'm having so much fun," Obi-Wan shot back, a grin on his face.

Sabé opened her mouth to reply, but the skiff suddenly made a strange, low sound and shook violently. "What's happened?" Sabé asked, still holding on tightly for fear of falling off.

"I think he hit our main stabilizer," Obi-Wan replied, his expression once more serious, brow wrinkled as he looked at the blinking readout. As soon as he said it, the skiff jerked roughly as if in agreement. The engine coughed and puttered a couple of times, and then with a dramatic wheezing, went silent. Slowly, the skiff came to a halt. "Well. Just perfect," Obi-Wan said, flipping a couple of switches in vain as Sabé clumsily swung off the skiff and jumped to stand on the sandy ground below.

"It gets better," Sabé said, shielding her eyes and peering into the horizon. Obi-Wan followed her gaze to the horizon. The darkening sky, now beginning to turn a strange yellow in the weak light was intersected horizontally by a tall, hazy line of beige—a sandstorm, and a large one by the looks of it. Obi-Wan said nothing, but gave an annoyed sigh.

* * *

Outside, the sandstorm raged. Dry, empty, and at least twenty paces deep, the cave Obi-Wan had found was small but adequate. Although he didn't believe in luck, he had to admit this was certainly the closest thing to it. That was the way of the Force, after all—it always provided a solution, it always saw him through despite any personal misgivings he had. Still, he would probably never entirely understand its ways or logic. It was hard to trust, sometimes. The same question taunted him and unsettled him: Why had the Force allowed him to lose the very thing that he depended on to survive? His lightsaber was so much more than a weapon. It was his life. Being without it threw him off balance.

He absently poked at the very humble fire he'd managed to build and glanced over at Sabé, who sat against the rough rock wall as far away from him as possible, her features difficult to make out in the low light. They had found the cave just as the storm swept across the valley and she hadn't said another word since they had escaped the storm. She was calmer now and it was clear both in her countenance and her Force signature. But, as Obi-Wan took in her rough appearance—the soft scarlet bruise on her right temple, several cuts on the swollen lower lip, a vivid red scrape on her chin—he knew she needed medical attention sooner than later.

He remembered the look in her eyes when she had first seen him, when he had been in his disguise. If there had been a way to let her know who he was, he would have done so. If only to set her at ease. He couldn't remember seeing anyone look at him with that level of fear, despair, and terror before. He glanced at her again now. From the way she was dressed in a skintight neon outfit, Obi-Wan could only guess what she had been put through. It was hard to look at her without feeling inappropriate since so much skin was on display. But the skin that was exposed bore witness to her trials. The dress had a variety of uniform holes cut into it, one long sleeve while the other arm and shoulder were bare, covered in more scrapes and bruises. Her leg, on display from a high slit in the side of the dress, had a large gash on it, like she had fallen and scraped it. Her simple sandals looked like they were too small and had rubbed the skin raw in places. On her wrists, primitive rusted binders kept her from being able to reach more than perhaps half a meter apart from the other. She was nothing like the fiery, know-it-all decoy handmaiden he remembered. Instead she was worn out like fabric, downcast and hopeless in appearance. She was obviously physically exhausted and possibly even malnourished. But she hadn't complained once. Her silence and appearance worried him.

A slow, dull ache in his chest reminded him of his injury and he touched a hand there absently, gauging the damage done for the first time. It was a deep bruise—if not for the bounty hunter's armor he had... _borrowed_... it might have been a fatal wound. The pain was only a distraction, nothing serious. Feeling a gaze, Obi-Wan glanced over at Sabé.

Her dark brown eyes flicked to his chest. "How badly are you hurt?"

He heard the slight tell of worry in her voice and attempted a smile to ease her nerves. "Don't worry. I'll be quite all right. Just a bruise."

She looked at him a little helplessly. "I... didn't know it was you."

"I know you didn't." Obi-Wan stood and scooping up the blaster from where it lay, he motioned for her to stand.

She hesitated, seemed to gain some confidence. "Where's your lightsaber?"

Obi-Wan lifted a challenging eyebrow as several tastefully sarcastic replies flitted through his mind. But he answered simply instead. "I don't know."

Sabé looked at him for a moment in disbelief. He was almost sure she were about to tell him off, but then instead, she stood wordlessly and held her wrists out. She watched him with guarded eyes. "Don't miss."

He paused deliberately. "I'll try_ not_ to." She didn't look away as he aimed the weapon. A loud blast sounded and the chain split in two, enabling her to move her arms to their full ability once again. She sighed, visibly relaxing.

Obi-Wan's eyes drifted to one of her wrists where the shackle and bit of chain would stay for now—and then without even meaning to, he found himself again looking at the glaring flashes of skin revealed by her current ensemble. The outfit left very little to the imagination. Clearing his throat and averting his eyes, Obi-Wan picked up his robe from where it rested, neatly folded, on the rest of his Jedi uniform. "Would you like to... borrow this?"

She looked at him blankly, not understanding for the slightest of moments. And then, realization flashed across her features and her cheeks grew red as she wordlessly snatched the cloak. As she shrugged it on, Obi-Wan noticed a flash of crude black ink against fair skin—on the back of her shoulder, a mark he hadn't noticed before, some kind of tattoo. A ripple of unease came across him through the Force at the sight, but he didn't understand why. As if she felt his questioning gaze, she looked at him pointedly, fixing him with a disapproving gaze as she settled back into the further corner of the cave, a stone's throw away against the wall. He wondered if she had been branded a slave—was that was the tattoo was?

Giving the impression of one who wanted to be left alone, Sabé began to pull small, glittering combs out of her tightly pulled back hair. One by one they dropped onto the smooth rock ground of the cave, making a little clattering sound as it skittered along the rocks. Again Obi-Wan reflected on how different she looked than he remembered. Then again, she had been in the Queen's makeup and pomp for most of the time he had known her before.

After a few moments, he attempted a quiet, kind tone, hoping she might take the bait and talk to him. "You seem to have quite the collection of bruises and cuts. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

She looked at him with an almost hostile air. Then with a quietness he didn't expect, she answered as she looked away, flicking the last little comb across the cave. "I'm fine now. I'd rather not talk about it."

The soft reply was more worrisome and troubling than a sharp retort, but Obi-Wan let it go for the time being, pushing his thoughts back from where they would trouble him. He settled back down into a cross legged position beside the fire, thoughtful. The rescue had gone well enough—they had escaped, after all. But now with an unforeseen circumstance to deal with, Obi-Wan wondered what he had gotten them into. The desert around them was harsh and deadly. Tatooine's wastelands would prove challenging enough on his own, but with a young woman as well... he glanced over at her again. She was staring into the fire silently, expression terse, her chocolate brown hair surrounding her youthful face like a shroud. _Blazes. We're probably a couple days walk from the city, if we're lucky. _Obi-Wan shook his head faintly, marveling at his stupidity and lack of planning. He wasn't sure what kind of rescue it would be if the desert killed them in the end.

He swallowed a pang of self-resentment and wondered what Qui-Gon would do in this situation. He wondered what words of wisdom his master could offer. The fire crackled and popped, sending a pattern of warm, ever-moving light over the small cave. But nothing came to him, and nothing made sense.

"Obi-Wan?" Her voice was very small and quiet. When he looked at her, her jaw worked oddly. "I'm very glad you got me out of there." The words were so awkward and stilted and were followed by a silence in which she struggled to put another sentence together. "I just want to know... why you? Why were _you_ sent to get me?"

Obi-Wan rested his elbow on his knee as he leaned back against stone wall. "I was contacted by the Council less than a day ago. Padmé requested our help locating you and returning you safely to Naboo."

"A day ago? Only a day?" Sabé asked, as if she had heard him wrong.

Obi-Wan nodded confirmation and watched as a flicker of tangible hurt and confusion came over her features. "Did Naboo try to find me before they called you?" she asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't know."

She looked into the fire unseeingly. "I was convinced someone was coming. Maybe they weren't."

Understanding, Obi-Wan searched for words that would make her feel better. But he couldn't think of anything comforting. "Rest now. Tomorrow will be a challenge of its own." Obi-Wan rose to his feet. Sabé looked at him from underneath her eyelashes questioningly. "If you'll excuse me, Milady. I'm going to check the perimeter." She gave a barely perceptible nod and didn't watch him go. He really had no intention of checking any perimeter—he walked halfway up the cave's entrance to where the wind and some of the sand it carried with it stung the side of his face. There, he waited, attuning his senses to her sleepy presence, waiting for her to fall asleep without him there to make her uncomfortable.

Although he would only admit it to himself, he didn't prefer being alone with the opposite sex, especially those around his age. All the missions he had ever been on, he met many peoples, ages, and races, but women—women were all the same to him. Damned impossible to truly read, even with his Jedi senses. They managed to be unpredictable, volatile and emotional which were three things he found extremely... _difficult_. Sabé had been victimized and this would only add to the challenges of his current mission. He wasn't gifted in counseling, and he wasn't sure how to approach her in all honestly. Still, he felt compassion for the young woman a few paces off who had shut down once the escape was over. Finally, he sensed her drifting off into sleep.

When he quietly returned, the fire had died out. The small area smelled earthen and smoky. Obi-Wan sat down a respectable distance from her in the darkness and mediated, concentrating on the painful bruise on his chest, allowing the energy of the Force to heal his body. As he closed his eyes and asked for sleep, he drifted into memories and considered the irony of the situation. Two years had made his memories blurry, until the moment he had arrived in Tatooine's outer space. And then, at the sight of the sandy planet, the memories had come rushing back with startling vividness. Memories that he had thought he had put behind him.

Perhaps he hadn't come to terms with the past as he thought he had.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Sabé's eyes opened slowly to a cave flooded with daylight. The brightness of it caused her to squint against the beginnings of a splitting headache. And as soon as she felt the pain in her head, her entire body seemed to come awake with more throbbing aches and pains. She held still for a moment, grimacing up at the rocky roof above her, for the slightest of moments not knowing where she was at all, only knowing she was the following things: in pain, alive, rescued. She had been _rescued_! The thought sent her heart soaring. Obi-Wan had a plan and he would take her home. Hope surged through her spirit, diminishing pain's crippling grasp of her.

Groaning against her body's protests, she slowly sat up, hugging Obi-Wan's oversized robe to herself. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that the cave was empty of everything except herself and the remains of the fire. The blaster was gone, the pile of Obi-Wan's clothes was gone. Had he left her? She got to her feet, a certain sort of blind panic setting in, a thousand scenarios playing in her mind of what could have happened to Obi-Wan. Clutching the robe to herself until her knuckles turned white, she stumbled out into the open.

Outside the cave mouth, uneven rocks littered the ground for several paces until they gave away to flat sandstone, and above them a clear azure sky. To either side of her the jagged mountains and foothills marched endlessly. The sand skiff they had made their escape in sat nearby, but other than that—nothing. No one. Sabé's heart hammered, her mind churned, her stomach warned her she might become sick—but then a flash off in her periphery caught her attention, and squinting with a hand up to shade her eyes, Sabé saw a very small beige figure moving slowly back toward her, perhaps half a kilometer away—and beyond the figure was a large rust-red vehicle which rolled slowly in the opposite direction. A little shocked at herself for not seeing him before, embarrassed for the panic but relieved to have been wrong, Sabé waited a moment before collapsing into a sitting position leaned up against the rock wall where the shade still remained. There she waited, stilling her mind, regulating her breathing, head in her hands.

Presently, she raised her head and watched Obi-Wan's small figure as it made the slow approach. She was unsure how she felt about the entire situation. Why hadn't _Panaka_ sent someone? Why hadn't Padmé been quicker to see that she was found and rescued? Sabé was sickened that she had been left so long without help. Obi-Wan had only learned about her abduction a couple standard days ago and he had already found and rescued her. Why hadn't Naboo been as quick to come to her rescue? She glanced his way again, watching the steady gait he maintained. He looked more recognizable now—last night in the other clothing he wasn't as familiar... but now, back in his Jedi tunic and boots, he looked much more as she remembered him. His russet hair was longer and messy instead of short and precise, and he had the look of a man who hadn't shaved in a few days. But it was definitely the same man—the one with the air of constant calm and quiet confidence. Last night, he seemed kinder and wiser than she had remembered him, maybe. But lost in her own misgivings and pain, yesterday's rescue had become a big blur in her mind.

As he finally grew within earshot, Sabé stood slowly, careful to hide any signs of the distress she had just put herself through. In the oversized robe and with no idea what the rest of herself looked like, she felt entirely awkward. "Hello there," he greeted pleasantly, seemingly unaware of her anxiety. He was holding out what she now saw to be a gunmetal gray jumpsuit and a pair of sturdy boots. "I thought perhaps you'd like a new outfit."

Sabé felt a surprised smile at the unexpected gesture, then just as quickly a confused expression came over her face. She looked from him to the rolling vehicle in the distance, perplexed. "How did you buy that?"

He shrugged. "I traded that blaster rifle for it."

"_What_?!" She waited for him to tell her that he was joking, but he simply held out the jumpsuit. She snatched the jumpsuit a little churlishly. "I really liked that rifle."

* * *

Obi-Wan waited outside the cave, arms folded. Outwardly he was calm and unfettered. But inwardly he was straining to hear the Force's will and plan. So far he felt nothing—silence and stillness, leaving him to wonder. It was early in the morning but the heat was already enough to make him uncomfortable in the sun.

Behind him he heard the sound of Sabé's boots on the sand-scattered rock. He turned to look at her—the jumpsuit, although a _little_ too big for her, looked much more comfortable than the skimpy dress had. Her long dark hair was down and loose, pulled to one side of her neck. She looked much more rested than yesterday. "So, which way are we traveling?" she asked, hands on her hips as she came to a stop in front of him.

Obi-Wan looked at her carefully, appraising her seriousness with more than just a hint of uncertainty. She waited expectantly. "My ship is in Mos Espa—North. But traveling on foot in the day is not a good idea. We should wait for the evening."

"But we can stick to the shadows on the edges here until at least mid day," she said, motioning to the high, rocky outcropping that stretched North as far as they could see.

"You're injured," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Sabé looked as though he'd insulted her mother. "I_ can_ walk." He said nothing and she grew more agitated. "It's just a couple of cuts and scrapes. I'm not made out of porcelain."

Obi-Wan folded his arms, frowning slightly as he thought it over. Her expression darkened a little bit, and suddenly he felt they were back on board the Pristine, a Padawan and Handmaiden at odds. He considered how low he was on supplies and how difficult water would be to come by. But... it _wasn't _impossible. She was waiting for his answer, but not patiently, and finally, she seemed to lose whatever patience she'd had. "Obi-Wan, I can and _will_ walk all day and all night if I have to. We _cannot_ just sit here all day!" Her eyes pleaded with him, and he sighed grudgingly. She didn't have to say it—he knew that part of the reason she wanted to get moving was because she was deeply afraid of Jabba the Hutt's reach. And truthfully, there was a chance that they could run into trouble if they stayed where they were.

"Very well," he replied, not bothering to hide his reluctance. And wordlessly, she started walking, leaving him to follow as he shook his head. Typical.

And so they set off into the hot morning and stuck to the shade given by the shadows of the mountains. It would be several hours and they would lose the shade all together and be forced to travel under direct sunlight. This was one of the more ludicrous things Obi-Wan could think of that he had done.

Just a few paces ahead, Sabé was glancing back at him. "How far do you think we are from Mos Espa?"

"Probably two days walk," Obi-Wan replied, which seemed to surprise her, then worry her.

She was silent for a moment. "Do you think Jabba will send bounty hunters after us?"

He heard the slight strain in her voice—the fear. "Doubtful. He'll probably assume the sandstorm killed us."

"You can't be sure of that," she said. Her eyes darted around, no doubt imagining ambushes around every corner.

Obi-Wan chuckled, second nature. "He'll forget you even existed within the week."

"Very comforting," Sabé retorted defensively, and Obi-Wan softened, remembering himself. He had a tendency to use sarcasm in tense situations, and sometimes it was out of place. He realized with a twinge of guilt this was perhaps one of those times. Sabé's feelings of fear were tangible to him, and she had real reasons to have these feelings.

Obi-Wan looked at her sidelong, having caught up to her. "Don't be afraid. I'm with you now."

The words seemed to stun her then render her annoyed, and Sabé's gaze faltered from his direction to the ground in front of her, and then silence stretched between them. For several more miles, the silence was punctuated only by the scratchy sound of boots on the sandy rock ground.

Midmorning they came across the dried bones of a creature that was big enough for them to stand inside. Sabé wandered over to it, curious, and walked in between two of the ribs, standing where the creature's stomach would have been. "What_ was _this thing?"

"Whatever it was, we wouldn't want to encounter a live one," Obi-Wan replied. He heard her laugh—a short little biting little laugh—and then he watched her walk the length of the ribcage, her fingertips skimming the sun bleached skeletal remains. She was so small compared to the large beast.

At that moment, a strange and barely perceptible feeling of warning shimmered through Obi-Wan. "We should keep going," Obi-Wan said, and motioned to Sabé, who complied, but clearly didn't miss the fact that something was wrong. They kept on, making small conversation and slow time.

Mid day approached and came and the protective morning shadows were all but gone, forcing the two travelers to retreat underneath a large rock outcrop as they waited for the coolness that dusk would bring. For awhile, neither said anything. Obi-Wan even let his eyes fall shut in meditation a couple of times. Sabé mostly stared thoughtfully into the desert that sloped out in front of them. A few times her expression growing stony. And then finally, sometime in mid afternoon, her tired voice cut through the quiet. "It's so hot." She rubbed sweat off her brow with the palm of her hand.

He glanced at her. "It's really not that bad," he smiled wryly, reflecting. "I've been to hotter planets."

They were sitting near each other, leaned against the rock wall. "I guess you've seen a lot of planets," she commented offhandedly.

"Hundreds." His legs were straight out in front of him, one foot rested on the ground.

"Hundreds?" She sounded slightly impressed. She was silent a moment, thinking. "You must never be on Coruscant for long, then."

"Not usually, no. There are always issues and disputes to attend to... and handmaidens to rescue."

She snorted at the comment, seeming very interested in the sand between her feet. "So. Anakin's still your apprentice?"

"He is."

There was a long pause. "Why isn't he here with you?"

Obi-Wan thought of his young apprentice back in the halls of healing after an unfortunate run in with an angry clawbird on Wayland. He couldn't help but expel an exasperated sigh at the memory of Anakin charging ahead despite Obi-Wan telling him clearly to _stop_ and wait. "Anakin still has much to learn."

Piqued, Sabé looked at him inquisitively. "Of the Force?"

"Of respect. Of obedience. I could go on." He glanced at her, a playful smile on his face. She tried to return the smile, but faltered, mind far away.

A moment passed and she spoke again, softly. "I still don't understand why someone from Naboo didn't come for me or why it took so long. Was it Captain Panaka who contacted you?"

"No, Padmé contacted the council who then contacted me." He paused, noting the fact that he needed to be considerate of her obviously delicate feelings in the matter. "I don't know much. They _were_ trying to find you. They managed to learn that you had been taken by pirates to Tatooine." He paused and she remained silent and expressionless, staring off into the space in front of her as he continued. "But no one knew you'd been sold to the Hutts."

Sabé shook her head bitterly. "_You_ figured it out."

"Yes I did."

"_And _you managed to somehow lose your lightsaber along the way," she said, looking at him sidelong, gauging his reaction.

Obi-Wan just gave her a sidelong look that neither confirmed nor denied the accusation, but she seemed to see right through him. She chuckled and shook her head, looked out at the desert in front of them.

"You're different than I remember you." She said momentarily.

Interested, Obi-Wan looked at her closely. "And how is it that you remember me?"

She reflected a moment. "Impatient. Distracted. A little mean." She made a thoughtful sound, a bashful smile on the corners of her lips. "I was those things too, though, wasn't I."

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Without a doubt."

She pulled a face as if she were shocked he would confirm her statement, then laughed out loud, a surprisingly carefree and unrestrained sound. Her smile was genuine and full, bringing a life to her face he had never seen before—it crinkled her eyes and shallow dimples appeared on either cheek, made her features seem younger, the moment seem lighter, and the bruises and scrapes couldn't counteract the effect that laughter had on her face.

He noticed hints of freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, the dust from the traveling that dirtied her face and neck. Her long dark hair seemed to follow no pattern, just twirled and twisted its way down her back, a few loose strands brushing against the sides of her face. She looked messy and unkempt, the opposite of the immaculate handmaiden he had met two years ago, yet there was something better and even more beautiful about the simplicity and rawness of her like this. She glanced over at him, her face soft from laughter. Her dark brown eyes reflected the bright sand behind him, and he could see his silhouette just inside the reflection.

A confused expression flitted over her features at his intent gaze. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and looked away. A moment of silence stretched between the two in which a dry breeze fanned them with more heat from the East.

Sabé's soft voice interrupted the silence. "It's so strange that we would end up stuck on this planet together again."

Obi-Wan leaned back, shifting his weight, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Fate does seem to have quite the sense of irony."

There was another long pause. "It seems like a lifetime ago when you and I were here before." Her voice carried notes of sorrow. "I only mean—" she continued as she stared into some far away place, talking as if almost unto herself. "The Occupation... the battle... standing in as Padmé's decoy... I never thought something like that could happen to my planet." She paused. "I never thought anything like _this_ could happen to me." She spread her hands emphatically staring at the metal cuffs still on each wrist and the stubble of chain left on each. Her voice was small. "The galaxy is much darker than I ever thought it could be." She fell silent and seemed to remember she was talking out loud, then fell silent, visibly embarrassed.

She met his gaze and forced a thin smile, tucking some hair behind her ear self-consciously. Again, his eyes went to the bruise on her temple there—evidence of her abuse the past two weeks. The slightest stirrings of indignant anger stirred in him. Anger was not an acceptable emotion. Now _he_ was wondering why Naboo had waited so long to seek outside help in recovering their loyal citizen. Sabé was strong and capable, but she had nearly died in captivity.

A ghostly breeze sighed over the desert.

"You don't have Sabacc cards or anything in that Jedi pouch of yours, do you?" she asked momentarily, attempting to lighten the mood as she motioned toward his belt.

Obi-Wan grinned. "Don't tell me that my company bores you that much, Nebira."

"Well, it _does_," Sabé said, dead pan, flashing a teasing smile at him.

For several more hours they waited in the shelter of the rock outcrop from the merciless scorching suns. Casual conversation of no great importance floated between them easily now. At one point they had a pebble distance throwing contest out of Sabé's sheer boredom. He let her win, which she immediately called him out on. As soon as the late afternoon's long shadows stretched over the mountains and the heat was bearable, the two travelers continued on. The landscape was a gritty bed for the jagged mountains above. The rockiness of the terrain increased, the sandy slopes were less and less as the landscape became more wasteland than desert, and their progress slowed as they picked their way through the rockier ground. About an hour from sunset, the two travelers came to a long pass where two rough cliff faces formed a small trail between them. They could either enter the pass, or continue around the bend of the mountain out in the open. Obi-Wan stopped, clearly considering entering the pass.

"We shouldn't go in there," Sabé said, standing firm in one place.

"If we don't, we'll might add as many as ten kilometers to our journey," he said. Seeing her unconvinced face, he gave her a small smile before turning and going ahead, giving her little choice but to follow. "The Force will guide us."

Hesitating a few seconds, Sabé muttered, "I don't like this," as she followed him inward.

Without even realizing it, she walked closer to him than before, an instinctive sense of danger causing her to be on high alert. She looked up at the sheer rock walls on either side of them—at least twenty meters high, the walls left only a small area to walk in. She could have reached out with both arms and touched each wall at the same time. A bit claustrophobic but too proud to let on, she kept her mouth shut. Obi-Wan calmly led, and for several moments they walked in silence. Just as the other end of the pass become visible about thirty yards off, Obi-Wan came to an abrupt halt, frozen, his head tilted to one side and eyes narrowed, as if he were listening. "What is it?" Sabé whispered, also frozen.

"Wait."

"What do you hear?" Sabé asked, shrinking a little closer to him, wishing her blaster rifle hadn't been traded for the stupid jumpsuit she was now wearing. And then, a maniacal, biting sound like laughter echoed all around, from everywhere and nowhere. Whirling, Sabé saw a group of figures advancing single file from behind them they had come in—they were humanoids, dressed in tan with their faces covered. They held primitive crude stick weapons, their heads were wrapped in beige cloth, their eyes were covered in goggles. Recognition like a thunderclap came over her as she realized she knew what they were—Sand People. A glancing memory of a holonet feature story she'd once overheard on Sand People flashed through her mind—words like cruel, merciless, savage had peppered the story. At the time they sounded thrilling and interesting. And now, they were in front of her, ready to kill or capture her. "Oh gods... Obi-Wan!" Sabé choked out as she backed into him, beginning to panic, realizing that neither of them had a weapon.

"I see them. They're on both sides of us," Obi-Wan said calmly, and Sabé whirled, looking ahead of them where even more Sand People were approaching.

Sabé swore under her breath, to which Obi-Wan looked at her, smiled lightly, touched her forearm gently. "Don't panic," he said. For a moment, he held her gaze and it was as if they were in their own little world. His crystal blue eyes and quiet, sure smile entranced her for the smallest span of a moment. And then he looked up high. Baffled, Sabé followed his gaze but saw nothing but two rock ridges and sky between them. Then, she felt it. The air grew filled with something Sabé had never felt before—a pure and vibrant energy that seemed to make the air dense, electric, alive... and dangerous. The Sand People seemed to feel it too, because they stopped in confusion. And then, the ground itself began to shake.

Confused, Sabé looked at Obi-Wan. He was sweating heavily, his face a mark of concentration, his gaze far off. And then, only a stones throw away, the walls collapsed inward with a thundering rumble, great sheets of rock breaking off in jagged patterns and sliding into the pass, blocking the path from where they had come. The impact of the collapse shook the ground mightily, almost knocking Sabé off her feet as rubble sprayed everywhere. And then there was a moment of complete shock where she blinked a few times and looked between Obi-Wan and the collapsed rock, not sure if that had just happened. However, in front of them, blocking their way out, the second group of Sand People began chattering angrily, shaking their weapons, moving forward, enraged by the display.

Obi-Wan's voice was low, calm, but left no room for arguments. "Stay behind me."

Already doing exactly what he had said, Sabé watched over Obi-Wan's shoulder helplessly as the Sand People advanced. Scanning the ranks, she counted five of them. They closed in slowly, more of the strange barking shouts sifting between them. They came close slowly, crouched over with weapons brandished, unsure about this strange human with the power to crumble the earth itself. For the longest of moments, Obi-Wan just stood there, by all counts simply staring at them as they advanced. Just as Sabé was about to desperately demand an explanation, without any warning Obi-Wan thrust both of his arms out straight, his hands flexed with fingers wide as if he were pushing against a solid, invisible wall—and in perfect tandem, all the Sand People went flying backwards forcefully, scattered as easily as petals in breeze.

"Now," Obi-Wan urged, seizing the momentary daze and grabbing Sabé's arm. Then they ran, barely picking their way up, over, and through the crumpled Sand People. One of the Sand People, one who had been at the back and wasn't pushed as hard, was getting up, his weapon raised high. But in an instant his weapon flew from his grip to the waiting hand of Obi-Wan, who twirled it for effect and used the blunt end to neatly smash the would-be attacker in the face. Dropping the weapon to the ground and pushing Sabé forward, he urged her to be quick.

As they reached the end of the channel, Sabé paused to look back at the unconscious creatures in utter amazement and a little bit of shock. "Obi-Wan, I don't think you even_ need _a lightsaber."

Obi-Wan didn't seem to hear her comment. "We mustn't remain here. Quickly." He motioned forward, and Sabé, still energized by the adrenaline, found it easy to walk quickly, looking back many times.

"How did you—I mean, I know it's the Force, but—I've never seen anything like that."

He seemed annoyed at her awe, tersely casting glances around, gauging for any other danger. "It was necessary. My feelings tell me we were very lucky to escape alive."

She was almost jogging to keep up with his brisk pace. "Do you think there are more of them?"

"It's best not to take any chances," he replied evenly, but didn't slow down. Sabé stayed behind him at a trot, marveling to herself at Obi-Wan's actions. Honestly, she had forgotten. Forgotten that he was the man who had singlehandedly defeated a Sith warrior on her planet. Forgotten that despite his unassuming nature and somewhat unremarkable physical presence he was more powerful than imaginable. Forgotten that behind the quiet smile and calm countenance was a store of almost magical power.

Ahead of them, the horizon was a fiery glow as the twin suns rested just above it, burning orange light across the barren landscape. They continued their travel without stopping.

As night fell, the temperature dropped from uncomfortably hot to nearly unbearable cold. The full silver moon rose high, its cool dim light made it easy for them to see. Obi-Wan once again insisted Sabé take his robe as the chill settled in the air and she grudgingly accepted. It helped a little. Her fatigue increased tenfold, the darkness and cold coaxing her to lay down and sleep. Her joints, her feet, her back—all begged her to stop taxing them. But she was silent, determined not to listen to her body. Sabé had one thought in her mind that kept her going. Getting off this planet... again.

* * *

They walked all through the night, cold and without exchanging many words. Just a few hours before sunrise, they had to stop. The ground where they stood gave way in a sheer fifty-meter drop to a valley, which opened up into a wide flat vista, and Obi-Wan immediately began trying to see how they could climb down, but Sabé was too tired to offer any opinion. She instead sat on a nearby boulder, noting how her feet were numb and her legs felt like rubber and durasteel at the same time. Trying to forget the pain, the exhaustion, her growling stomach, she let her gaze wander to the brilliant night sky. Out here, the sky was inky black, unpolluted by city lights or waste. The stars were flung by the fistful into the sky, and the moons illuminated several neighboring galaxies, a canvas of perfection that stirred awe. Sabé felt a sense of peace come over her as she sleepily drank in the sight.

Nearby, Obi-Wan was muttering to himself and pacing slowly, frowning and squinting into the darkness, trying to see if there were a way down for them. Sabé felt an amused smile on her lips as he continued to complain in the form of sighs and huffs. She looked back at the sky, and that's when a single large star suddenly shot across the expanse. She blinked, and it felt like it took all of her strength to open her eyes back up. She hugged herself, trying to get warm. Another blink, slower this time, even harder to open her eyes back up. She managed it one more time before giving in and slipping into the mercy of deep, desperately needed sleep.


End file.
